Total Drama: Cartoon Multiverse: The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel
by SteveAtwater
Summary: 12 campers from 12 cartoons return to Wawanakwa, and this time they're competing for 10 million dollars.
1. The Host with the Most

As you can probably tell from the title, this is a sequel to my previous work Total Drama: Cartoon Multiverse. It's going to follow most of the same rules: a chapter for a challenge followed by a chapter for a campfire ceremony, with most chapters told from the first-person perspective of one of the characters. This time, I'm parodying _Total Drama Action_ , most notably some of the things that I thought dragged it down in comparison to _Total Drama Island_. (CONSIDER THIS YOUR OFFICIAL WARNING.) The most notable aspect is the reduced cast: this time, there are only twelve campers. They're still on the island, but with a twist: their challenges are being provided by the ex-contestants this time around!

So, I figure I should give acknowledgements. As always, this was inspired by TheMasterKat's excellent fic _Total Drama Everything_. The personalities of the returning characters (and whether or not they could come back) were similarly fleshed out by LordOfTheSloths's _Strange People_ , and I'm going to cast a few references to that. I strongly suggest you give both of them a read.

There's probably more I could say, but it's late where I am and I have work in the morning. So, just be warned that there is strong language up ahead, along with plot twists, betrayal, and everything else you've come to expect from _Total Drama_. Enjoy the show, and thanks for reading.

Sincerely,  
SteveAtwater

* * *

"Last time, on Total Drama: Cartoon Multiverse," Chris said, "We saw twenty-two contestants from twenty-two different cartoons come together on one island, all of them competing for the grand prize of one million dollars! We saw thrills! We saw spills! And we saw immense amounts of Total Drama! Two people died, secret alliances were made and broken, and in the end it all came down to allies-turned-enemies Ingrid and Nazz taking each other on in the finale! Ingrid ended up winning, and was about to take home a million dollars when we revealed that the million was in Monopoly money, smoke-bombed them all into unconsciousness, and put them to a test to see who would compete on season 2! As it turns out, only twelve players made it through, but this time around they'll be competing for ten! Million! Dollars! So who's gonna win it all? Who's gonna win absolutely nothing? Will anyone die? It's tough to say, but we're definitely gonna find out, starting right here, right now, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

 **Enter...  
INGRID THIRD**

The elevator doors open onto the beach of Wawanakwa, and we all tromp out onto the sand. I notice with a bit of surprise that Boris has gotten his clothes back on somehow, and make a mental note to try and figure out how this happened, but before I can get my bearings, Chef sorts us into a line and Chris stands in front of us to address us.

"You're probably wondering why you're here," he begins smarmily.

"Lemme guess," Wendy says sarcastically. "We're going to do another season of Total Drama."

"Okay, yes," Chris says. "But this time, there's a twist!"

"This time there aren't going to be any teams in order to see how we do on our own?" Dale asks.

"No," Chris says. "Although I'm gonna file that idea away for later. But instead, this year, the grand prize is ten! Million! Dollars!"

"In Monopoly money?" I ask bitterly.

Chris sighs. "No, Ingrid, we're not going to pay out in Monopoly money again. I personally guarantee it."

"Is that guarantee worth anything?" Steve asks. "Because I've seen the show, and–"

"OKAY!" Chris yells. "DOES ANYBODY WANT THE MONEY?"

We all look at each other and shrug.

"Good," Chris says. "In that case, let's move on to more important matters–"

"HEY!" Boris suddenly yells. "WHERE'D THESE CLOTHES COME FROM?"

"Yeah," Aunt Grandma says. "For that matter, how'd we come out of that cliff?" She points at it. "I know we went down on that elevator, but there's no way you could've fit all those corridors into that cliff, and if you built them _on_ the island, we'd definitely still be seeing them."

"Hey, that's right," Dale says. "How _did_ we get here? How long were we unconscious? Oh god, does Nancy think I'm dead?"

"You weren't unconscious for very long–" Chris starts to say.

"None of this makes any sense!" Elise adds. "Boris was naked, but now he's wearing clothes that we never saw him put on, and we were all in rooms filled with dangerous stuff and then suddenly we're here–something fishy is going on, and I'm–"

"SHUT IT!" Chris yells. We all look at him, cowed. "That's better. Now, _none_ of you are going to question reality. The last time that happened, the island almost exploded, thank you Scarlett. All you need to know is that you're on the island, _again,_ and there's an even bigger prize at stake! So, you're all going to come together and compete for it! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Ruby raises her hand. Chris ignores her.

"So, now that we're all clear on what's going on, how about we–"

"Um, can I go home?" Ruby asks. "I _really_ don't want to be here. I want to make sure my friends are okay."

"No," Chris says bluntly. "Now, there are twelve of you, which means I'm going to split you into teams of six. Since this is a sequel season, I think we should do something that reflects the type of sequels that usually get made." He smirks. "You see, sequels can broadly be split into two types. The first type is the one all of you are used to; a movie does well, the execs see sequel potential in it, they demand a sequel, nobody's quite sure what to do, and so they basically redo the plot of the first movie with bigger explosions and a higher budget. The other kind is when a franchise or a could-be franchise hasn't put anything out in a while, or maybe what it's put out hasn't resonated with the fans, so they decide to basically reboot the franchise by changing everything up and losing everything that made it enjoyable in the first place. So, team one, you're going to be the Predictable Formulas! Ingrid! Nazz! Numbuh Two! Wendy! Boris! Snidely! Get together on the left!"

Numbuh Two and I smile at each other and head over to group up with the other members of our team. Chris turns to the six remainders.

"You guys. Let's see, only three of you made it past the merge, none of you made it to the final three, one of you voted herself off, and another one was the first elimination for their team last time. So, naturally, you six are going to be the Overthought Reboots!"

The other six gather together. Chris smirks.

"Now that you're all in teams, let me tell you how I expect this to go down," he says jovially. "Overthought Reboots: you guys are going to suck. A lot. Elise is pretty much the only competent one among you, and she's got the type of personality that'll make you vote her out sooner rather than later. At most, I expect you to win maybe three competitions before the merge, one of which will definitely be a prize challenge, and even though Elise will be the only one keeping you afloat, she'll probably go home while there are still a couple of you left. Predictable Formulas: you're gonna win a lot, and on the occasions you lose you'll send Nazz home, and then you'll send Snidely home. The other four of you will make it past the merge, and the audience will love you all up until the pressures of competition shatter your alliance and you all turn into horrible people. Personally, I'm betting on Ingrid and Wendy getting together to vote off Boris, majorly annoying Numbuh Two. Now, I'd say that I'll give you all time to talk strategy, but that would be a lie."

A boat pulls up to the shoreline. A skinny redheaded guy with green-tinted glasses hops off, lands on the sand badly, and collapses, grabbing at his knee.


	2. The Dweeb

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

"Harold. Impressive entrance as always," Chris said sarcastically.

"Just help me up," Harold said, clutching his knee.

"You know, I would, but I don't really care," Chris said. "Plus, I have to tell everyone what's going on." He turned back to us while Chef went over to help Harold up. "See, this season, we've decided to bring back every former contestant _ever_ to either give out a challenge or hand out marshmallows during a campfire ceremony. And I know what you're all thinking; 'but Chris, there are only twelve of us and like fifty–'"

"Fifty-two," Steve corrected.

"' _And like fifty_ former players,'" Chris continued. "That's gonna mean a lot of prize challenges, but hey, you try cranking out season after season of Canada's greatest reality show. The upside is that you won't be able to guess what's happening next, since we're letting the returnees design the challenges! And, for our first challenge, we pegged Harold to come back to Camp Wawanakwa. Harold, how about you tell them what they're about to do."

Now standing, Harold cleared his throat, shut his eyes, and stuck his finger in the air. "Everyone has a talent. That's just a fact. Like Duncan, who has a talent for being a jerk. Or Owen, who has a talent for eating. Or Chris, who has a talent for being a horrible person."

Chris shrugged. "He's not wrong."

"But not everyone turns their talents into mad skills," Harold finished, grinning and opening his eyes. "I do, and that's why I have a bunch of mad skills that have propelled me to success as a beatboxer, nunchuck master, yo-yo champion, supreme nun-yo practitioner, compass reader, bass fisher, and prog-rock keyboardist. I believe that everyone has the ability to turn their talents into mad skills, and to prove it, I'm going to bring back the challenge that propelled me to fame and fortune: the talent show."

Chris groaned. "Harold, seriously? Are you sure you don't want to do something more interesting? Like, I dunno, maybe the dodgeball challenge if we have to do something lame that you were good at?"

"No, Chris," Harold said. "Talent show it is. And everyone will get _everything_ they need to put on a good performance." He turned back to us. "So, let's go over the rules. The performance starts at 7 o'clock tonight, right after dinner. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ , has to perform. If anybody doesn't perform, their team automatically loses the challenge. The performances will be judged by me, Chris, and Chef. Whichever person or group of people gets the highest score will win the challenge for their team. Is everyone okay with that?"

We all looked at each other, but nobody said anything.

"Good," Harold said. "See you tonight at 7."

* * *

My team headed over to the cabins to figure out what we were going to do. While we walked, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what talents I could use for the show. I honestly don't have that many unusual talents, unless you count 'ability to survive an apocalypse' or 'surprisingly strong for a fifteen-year-old' as talents. Which they don't really seem to be; luck and genetics explain both pretty well. Still, I had to think of something to do, even though I didn't have a clue what I could go onstage and do. But hey, fake it 'til you make it, right?

We eventually got to the cabins. I sank down against the side of one of them, knees folded up to my chin. Ingrid leaned on the side of the cabin next to me, still standing, while Numbuh Two and Nazz took seats on the ground. Boris stayed standing. So did Snidely.

Snidely smirked. "If we're going to win today, our team will need a leader. Obviously, only one of us is qualified to take charge here, so–"

"Numbuh Two?" Ingrid suggested.

"I'd be down with that," I said.

"I dunno, guys," Numbuh Two said, smiling awkwardly. "I don't really think I'm ready for the demands of leadership, y'know?"

"Oh, c'mon, Numbuh Two!" Boris said. "Clearly everyone likes and respects you. They'll listen to you."

"Yeah, Numbuh Two," Ingrid said. "You're the most natural leader here."

Numbuh Two looked around awkwardly. "Well–"

"Two! Two! Two! Two! Two!" Nazz chanted.

We took up the chant–all of us except Snidely and Numbuh Two. "Two! Two! Two! Two! Two! Two! Two! Two!"

"Alright, fine!" Numbuh Two said. "I'll do it." He grinned. "So, uh, anybody know what they're going to do?"

"I can play tuba," Nazz instantly volunteered.

Numbuh Two cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I didn't see you bring a tuba to camp."

Nazz shrugged. "They'll provide me with one. Harold said they had to."

"Fair point," Numbuh Two conceded. "Okay, anybody else?"

"Well, if we're going to be provided with equipment, I could do target practice with baseballs," Ingrid said.

"And I can sling a mean ax," I said.

"I dunno," Numbuh Two said. "Two musical acts? And no offense, but neither of you brought your instruments."

"That's not what I mean!" I said. "I mean, like, lumberjack's daughter? I know how to throw hatchets. I had to do it as part of apocalypse training."

"Wait, hold on," Ingrid said. "Apocalypse training?"

"It's more useful than you'd think," I said.

"No, I mean, can you hit a moving target?" Ingrid asked.

"Probably," I said. "Why?"

"Well, why don't we combine our acts?" Ingrid asked. "I throw baseballs, you throw axes and slice them in half."

"That sounds awesome!" Numbuh Two said. "If you can pull it off, we'll win the talent show for sure!"

I shrugged. "We can give it a shot. We can practice, right?"

"Maybe," Boris said.

"Make that yes!" Chris said over the loudspeakers. "But uh, you might want to do it someplace a little more private."

Snidely spun around. "Are you spying on us?" he asked accusingly.

"Uh, it's a reality show, dude," Chris said over the loudspeakers. "So the answer to your question is: _always._ "

Snidely scowled and turned back to us. "Well _I'm_ going to prove what a great escape artist I am."

"That's three acts," Numbuh Two said. "I suppose I could do stand-up comedy–"

"NO!" we all yelled.

"Puns suck!" I added.

Numbuh Two deflated. "Man, you all sound like my friends."

"Oh, do they have decent taste in jokes?" I asked.

Numbuh Two scowled. "Fine. I guess I'll do an air show or something."

"Do you really think they'll let you behind the wheel of a plane?" Ingrid asked.

Numbuh Two smiled. "If there's one thing I know how to do, it's fly a bird. Anyway, Boris, what do you want to do?"

Boris frowned. "I don't really have any special skills...that I can use here, at least."

"Well, do you have any unspecial skills?" Nazz asked.

Boris stayed silent.

"Why don't you sing the national anthem?" Snidely suggested.

Boris's face lit up. "Yes! Of course! I will sing _Hail Pottsylvania_ and show my love for my homeland! And also for Fearless Leader, of course."

"I guess that's everybody, then," Nazz said. "Let's get our stuff."

"It'll be here in an hour," Chris announced over the loudspeakers.

"Stop spying on us!" Snidely yelled.

* * *

Ingrid and I met in the woods. I'd gotten five throwing hatchets. Ingrid had gotten a bucket of baseballs. We stood about ten yards away from each other.

"You ready?" she asked.

I nodded. "Let's do this."

Ingrid grabbed a ball and tossed it in the air gently. I threw my hatchet at it and missed completely.

I grimaced. "That was not supposed to happen."

"Well, let's try again," Ingrid said.

Ingrid slung another ball through the air. This time, the handle of the hatchet I threw hit the baseball, sending it flying off into the trees. I grinned awkwardly.

"That's better," Ingrid said, nodding. "You think we can get this down by dinnertime?"

"Nothing to do but practice," I said.

Ingrid threw the next ball. I slung the hatchet at it.

* * *

All twelve of us were at the stage by the time that Harold came back for the show. The first thing that Chris did was separate us into two groups and tell us to choose a captain.

"I'll do it," I immediately volunteered.

"But we chose Numbuh Two as our captain," Nazz immediately argued.

"If no one wants to, I'll do it," Snidely said.

"Don't worry, guys," Numbuh Two said. "I got this."

Numbuh Two strode confidently to the center of the stage, where Aunt Grandma and Chris waited for him.

"Well, now that both of you are here, it's time for the coin toss!" Chris said.

"Coin toss?" Aunt Grandma asked.

"What, you thought we were just going to tell you which team would go first?" Chris asked, smirking. "Chef?"

Chef walked onstage, wearing his usual unflattering pink dress. In his hand he held a coin. He pointed at Numbuh Two.

"Call it," Chef said gruffly.

"Heads," Numbuh Two said.

Chef flipped the coin and caught it in his hand. He held it up and looked at it.

"Tails," Chef announced. "Predictable Formulas will go first. Who you got to start?"

"Oh!" Numbuh Two said, surprised. "Well, we uh, we have, uh, Boris! Singing the national anthem. Of...whatever country he's from, I guess."

Chef nodded, and he and Chris left the stage and joined Harold at the judges table. Boris walked up to the microphone and adjusted the stand so it was at his height. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and let it out. He took another breath and began singing.

"Hail, Pott-syl-van-i-a!  
Hail to the black and the blue!  
Hail, Pott-syl-van-i-a!  
Sneaky and crooked through and through!  
Down with the good guys  
Up with the boss  
Under the sign of the triple cross  
Hey!  
Hail, Pott-syl-van-i-a!  
Hail! Hail! Hail!"

Boris finished his song and took a bow. Chris and Chef looked at each other.

"I'm gonna give that a four," Chris said. "Nothing too great, nothing too horrible, but what was that song, even?"

"It was the song of my country!" Boris said, offended. "The Pottsylvanian national anthem!"

Chef snorted. "No nation is a nation without an airline and a beer. I've never even heard of your country, so you probably have neither. One!"

"One what?" Boris asked.

"One point, and that's all!" Chef yelled. "Now get off the stage!"

"Well I'm giving it an eight," Harold said. "It was sung with the one thing that can't be faked: passion."

"Next!" Chris yelled.

Dale trotted up to the mic stand. He fiddled with it for a few seconds before giving up and taking the microphone out. He stared at the judges, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses.

"You ever seen somebody working with a jackhammer and wonder what they're jackhammering?" Dale asked rhetorically. "Well I know what they're jackhammering. They're jackhammering for cement! That's right, the U.S. government has figured out how to turn cement into oil! The process isn't perfect yet, but when it is, they'll–"

"Next!" Chris yelled.

"–use it to–" Dale broke off. "What?"

"I said next!" Chris said. "You're boring. You're boring me. Get off my stage."

"Chris!" Harold complained. "You can't preempt the performer!"

Chris glared at him. "Do _you_ really want to hear more?"

Harold opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again and sighed. "Two points, Dale."

"One," Chris said.

"One," Chef agreed.

"Next!" Chris yelled.

Numbuh Two turned to us, excited. "Guys, that was horrible. I think that if we send up our strongest routine, we'll look much better by comparison. So let's–"

"Agreed," Snidely said. " _I'll_ show them what a good escape artist I am!"

"What?" Numbuh Two asked, shocked. "But we–"

Snidely shoved past him and walked onstage.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced. "Prepare to be amazed, as I, Snidely Whiplash, demonstrate my ability to wriggle free from the tightest bonds! Be astounded by my powers! Gasp in wonder and awe as I show the masterful work of expert locksmiths to be no match for my abilities of evasion! Numbuh Two! Prepare the chair!"

Numbuh Two scowled and walked onstage. He shoved a chair into the back of Snidely's legs, and Snidely fell into it with a thud.

"Hey–" Snidely started to protest.

Numbuh Two whipped out a rag and stuffed it into Snidely's mouth. Snidely began to choke, but Numbuh Two took out a chain and quickly wrapped it around Snidely, binding him to the chair. He snapped a padlock onto the chain and walked offstage. Snidely spent the next few minutes struggling to get free and failing completely.

"Okay!" Chris finally said. "It was funny at first, but now it's just boring."

"Yeah," Harold said. "That was unoriginal and poorly executed. Gosh!"

"I say that was a three," Chef said.

"Four," Chris said. "It made me laugh."

"One," Harold said. "I'd do a better job, since I learned escaping skills at Slippery Steve's Escape Camp!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Next!"

Numbuh Two walked onstage, grabbed the chair, and carried it and Snidely over to us. Someone on the other side shoved Steve onstage. He stumbled, caught his balance, waved nervously at the judges, and then fainted.

Chris waited a few seconds and then asked "Is that it?"

Nobody answered him.

"Fine. One," Chris said.

"One," Harold concurred.

"One," Chef said.

"Okay," Numbuh Two hissed. " _Now_ is the time to send up our best act."

Snidely grumbled something, but it was completely muffled by his gag. Ingrid and I walked onstage, her with six baseballs, me with six hatchets. We lined up across from each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Chris sit up and pay a bit more attention to the stage.

Ingrid tossed her first ball through the air lightly. I reared back and hurled the hatchet at the ball. The hatchet flew through the air, lazily turning end-over-end, until the blade made contact with the ball, biting into it and sending it back towards Ingrid. Ingrid nimbly stepped forward and in one smooth movement caught the hatchet with her left hand while letting another throw fly. I grabbed another hatchet and threw this one at the ball. Although I thought it wasn't as accurate as it could be, the hatchet made contact and blade bit ball. The ball was knocked off course, though, and they toppled to the ground where Ingrid couldn't reach them. She simply threw the next ball into the air, and I let another hatchet at it. The hatchet hit the ball perfectly, and they tumbled towards Ingrid, who caught them with one hand while letting the next pitch fly. I grabbed the next hatchet and hurled it towards the ball; another perfect throw, catch, throw again. I grabbed my fifth hatchet and slung it towards the ball. Perfect throw, catch, throw again. I threw my last hatchet at the last ball and missed completely.

Ingrid's eyes went wide as the hatchet arced through the air towards her. She leapt backwards and to the side as the hatchet spun towards her.

The hatchet landed harmlessly on the stage and skidded to a stop. After a few seconds, Chris stood up and applauded.

"Offbeat but spectacular!" he declared. "My only quibble is that Ingrid dodged the last throw, but hey, can't have everything. Nine out of ten!"

"Agreed!" Chef said. "I haven't seen such good ax-throwing since I was in active combat! Nine!"

Harold cleared his throat. "Although it was interesting and offbeat, and did showcase some mad skills, especially on Wendy's part, it wasn't performed as well as it could have been. I'm afraid I'm going to have to break with my fellow judges and award it only an eight out of ten."

Ingrid got to her feet and bowed. I followed her lead, and we walked off stage. Once we left the stage, Numbuh Two hi-fived us.

"That was it!" he said excitedly. "I think that'll win it for us!"

Behind us, we heard a heavy thrum. We turned around and saw Marlowe playing her bass.

Nazz smirked. "A bass solo. We've got this in the bag."

"I thought you were her friend," Ingrid said bitterly.

"I am!" Nazz defended herself. "But, y'know...bass solo."

"You play tuba," I pointed out.

Nazz shrugged. "That's true."

After a few minutes, Marlowe finished up. She wiped the sweat off her brow and looked to the judges for approval.

Chris scowled. "Really? A bass solo? Three out of ten."

"Yeah, nobody likes bass solos," Chef added. "Three."

"Well I thought it was good," Harold said. "It was rhythmically interesting. If I'm not mistaken, Marlowe, you were mainly playing in thirteen-sixteenths, intermingled with bars of five-four and three-eight, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," Marlowe said, somewhat surprised.

"Despite the rhythmic complexity, it was rather lacking in melodic content," Harold said. "I'll give it an eight."

Marlowe walked offstage. Numbuh Two turned to us.

"Wish me luck, guys," he said.

Numbuh Two quickly ran off. After a minute, Chris began to get restless.

"HEY!" he yelled. "PREDICTABLE FORMULAS! IT'S YOUR TURN!"

We heard the buzz of an airplane engine and looked up. Numbuh Two swooped over the stage and the judges' table with barely a foot of clearance in an old yellow plane that was held together by duck tape with one wheel and one bobber. He proceeded to pull a series of loop-de-loops, dives, and barrel rolls until the right wing suddenly snapped off. The plane peeled off to the left and pulled into a dive. Seconds before the plane crashed into the ground, Numbuh Two ejected from the cockpit and opened his parachute, floating gently to the ground.

"You wrecked my plane!" Chris complained.

Numbuh Two shook his parachute off and glared at Chris. "Whaddaya mean, _I_ wrecked your plane? It was in such bad shape I'm shocked it got off the ground!"

"And you wrecked it!" Chris said. "One point!"

"One point," Chef agreed. "Do you know how long I'm gonna have to spend fixing that thing?"

Harold nodded. "Although that was a good display of aerial prowess, I agree that breaking the plane should disqualify you. One point."

Numbuh Two scowled and headed back towards us. Chris forced a grin onto his face.

"Predictable Formulas! Your turn!" he called towards the stage. Aunt Grandma and Elise stepped out onto the stage and took positions a few feet away from each other, staring each other down. They then launched into a flurry of blows aimed at each other, constantly punching and kicking at each other. I would've thought it was choreographed if it weren't for the fact that we all had only a few hours to practice before dinner. They finished with a bunch of mirrored kicks that ended with them landing on each other's side of the stage. They then turned to the judges and bowed.

Harold stood up, clapping furiously. "Awesome!" he declared. "Ten out of ten, easy!"

Chef applauded as well. "Ten. Definitely."

"Who won?" Chris asked.

Elise stopped in the middle of exiting the stage. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Who won?" Chris asked.

"Nobody won!" Aunt Grandma said. "We're on equal footing!"

"Well..." Elise said."

"Five," Chris said. "A good fight _has_ to have a winner. No winner, nothing better than a five. Them's the rules! Nazz, you're the last one up for the Predictable Formulas."

Nazz climbed onstage carrying her tuba. She took a deep breath and then blew into her tuba. It let out a gigantic blast of atonal noise that seemed to last forever. When it finally stopped, she collapsed, panting.

"Well," Chris said awkwardly. "That was...something..."

"Girl, I haven't heard anything that horrible in my life!" Chef said angrily. "One point!"

"Yeah, what Chef said," Chris said. "One point."

"Au contraire," Harold said, standing up, closing his eyes, and sticking his finger in the air. "What we just witnessed was a display of subverting audience expectations in the mold of Andy Kaufman or Lou Reed. Ten out of ten!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Our last act is Ruby. Show us something good!"

Ruby walked out onto the stage, dressed in a purple showman's suit. She smiled at the judges.

"I wasn't sure what to do," Ruby admitted. "I thought long and hard about something that would impress all of you. Chris, you–"

"Is this part of the performance?" Chris interrupted.

"Um, no," Ruby said, taken aback.

"Then get on with it!" Chris demanded. "C'mon, I need my beauty sleep."

Ruby sighed, shrugged, and pressed a button on a remote. Fireworks lit up the sky behind the stage, bathing it in green and pink. The fireworks continued to explode, unfurling in blasts of blue and red and white and gray. Suddenly, they blew up in a specific arrangement, displaying Ruby's face perfectly. This was followed by Voltar's face, Nazz's face, Kenny's face, Aunt Grandma's face, Chaz's face, Triana's face, my face–everyone's face, including those of Chris, Chef, and Harold. Finally, there was a massive explosion in rainbow colors, and Ruby took a bow as the last echoes of sound and light faded from the scene.

As one, the judges rose and applauded Ruby's display.

"That was amazing," Chef said. "I can't believe you remembered me! Ten out of ten!"

"While it wasn't the most impressive thing I've seen tonight, it was definitely a showcase of mad skills," Harold affirmed. "Because of these mad skills, and because of how well it was pulled off, but also because it wasn't the most inventive display possible, I give it eight out of ten. Chris?"

"Nine out of ten," Chris said instantly. "The only thing keeping it from a perfect ten is that there wasn't enough _me_ in there. Work on that next time."

Harold nodded. "Then it's official. With twenty-seven points, Ruby's fireworks display is the best. The Overthought Reboots win!"


	3. The Homeschooled Guy

The Overthought Reboots let out a loud cheer and rushed the stage, scooping Ruby up and carrying her off on their shoulders. Backstage, the Predictable Formulas split up.

"Wait!" Chris called to them. "Before you go..."

The Predictable Formulas turned back to face him.

"Voting starts in an hour," Chris said. "That should give you enough time to figure out who to dump and who to keep."

Chris grinned sadistically. The Predictable Formulas turned around and walked away. As they left, they separated into groups, with Wendy, Ingrid, Numbuh Two, and Boris going off together. Nazz watched them leave with a frown on her lips, but was swiftly startled by a tap on the shoulder. Nazz started and turned around.

Snidely grinned at her in a way that he probably thought was charming but came off as predatory. "Hello, my dear. Care to make a deal?"

Nazz looked at him, disturbed. "What do you mean, make a deal?"

"Let me put it this way: you need me," Snidely said.

Nazz backed away from him. "Actually, I don't think I do."

"But Nazz–" Snidely started to say.

"Wait," Nazz said. "Is this one of those situations where you come off as majorly creepy when you aren't trying to?"

"Yes?" Snidely said uncertainly.

Nazz groaned. "Snidely. Next time, do the rest of us a favor and use your words. Now what do you want?"

"I'm–ugh," Snidely shook his head. "I'm proposing we team up."

Nazz looked at him oddly. "Aren't you still peeved I got you voted off last time around?"

"Oh, immensely!" Snidely said. "But in case you haven't noticed, we're in a bit of a jam here."

"I hadn't noticed," Nazz said sarcastically.

"Oh, it's true," Snidely assured her. "Wendy, Ingrid, and Numbuh Two are all on the same side. If they get together, they're bound to vote you out."

Nazz shut her eyes, annoyed. "I know that, Snidely. What's your point?"

"My point is, if we work together, we can force a tie," Snidely said. "You and the biggest loser."

"What about Boris?" Nazz asked. "He and Numbuh Two are friends."

"Leave him to me," Snidely said.

* * *

Ruby laughed happily as her team carried her off towards their cabin to continue the celebration and continued giggling as her teammates set her down. Steve offered his hand up for a hi-five, and Ruby gave him one. She couldn't stop smiling as everyone offered up their congratulations to her for winning the game for them.

"Thanks, guys," Ruby finally managed to say. "But, uh, when we lose the first time, could you do something for me?"

"Sure," Marlowe said. "What is it?"

"Vote me off," Ruby said.

The environment of mirth suddenly evaporated.

"What?" Steve finally asked, shocked. "Why?"

"Because, well..." Ruby said awkwardly. "I don't really want to be here. Not that you aren't all great!" she said quickly. "It's just, I don't like this game that much."

"C'mon, Ruby!" Steve said. "Stick around a while. Maybe it'll be fun."

Ruby drew in a breath through her teeth and then exhaled deeply. "No, you all want to be here. It wouldn't be fair for me to stay, especially since I don't need the money."

"If you're sure, we'll do it," Aunt Grandma said. "I promise we'll vote you out the first time we lose."

Dale shrugged. "Yeah, why not? If you wanna go home, I'm not gonna stand in your way."

"I'll vote for you," Elise promised.

"Me too," Marlowe said.

Steve frowned. "If you're sure..."

"I am," Ruby said.

"I'll vote for you," Steve said. He turned away from her, still frowning.

* * *

"So we've decided?" Boris asked.

Ingrid and Numbuh Two nodded.

"Snidely is definitely our biggest concern," Numbuh Two said.

"No, he _isn't_ ," Wendy insisted. "We have to get rid of Nazz. Last time she made it all the way to the finale."

Ingrid and Numbuh Two shared a look.

"Yeah, but...well, that's because...well..." Numbuh Two said awkwardly.

"Nazz is a threat, obviously," Ingrid said. "But Snidely's a bigger threat. When he was on our team last time, I'm pretty sure he orchestrated the first four eliminations."

"He didn't even make it past the merge!" Wendy said. "There's no way he's the biggest threat."

"He didn't make it past the merge _because_ of Nazz," Numbuh Two pointed out. "Remember how none of us knew Andy was in his alliance until Chaz shoved it into the open?"

"I did," Boris pointed out. "So did you. And Ingrid. And Ruby."

"Okay, yes, _but_ ," Numbuh Two said. "We didn't know that we knew–okay, who's side are you on?"

Boris shrugged. "I don't really care. They're both trouble."

"Then we're voting off Nazz," Wendy said.

* * *

Aunt Grandma leaned against the side of the cabin, sipping a soda. Steve stood next to her, sipping a soda of his own. They stood together in silence for a few minutes before Aunt Grandma finally sighed.

"So are you going to make some small talk, or am I gonna have to do it?" she asked.

"I'm not very good at small talk," Steve admitted.

"What are you good at?" Aunt Grandma asked.

"Good question. Let me ask you the same thing," Steve said.

Aunt Grandma glared at him. "I am Aunt Grandma. I help the children of the world solve their problems in a practical fashion. I am smart, strong, and most importantly, sane."

"And last time you were the second person to leave the island," Steve said.

Aunt Grandma gritted her teeth. "What's your point?"

"You need a friend," Steve said.

Aunt Grandma snorted. "I have plenty of friends."

"Name one," Steve said.

"Well, uh–" Aunt Grandma said.

"And before you tell me about the friends you have off the island, tell me who you have on the island," Steve said.

Aunt Grandma glared. "What's your point?"

"Do you want to make a deal?" Steve asked.

Aunt Grandma paused for a few seconds before asking "What kind of deal?"

"Think of it this way," Steve said. "If we can get a third person on our side, we'll be in charge of who gets eliminated as soon as Ruby leaves."

Aunt Grandma raised an eyebrow. "And why would I want to work with you?"

"Who else are you going to work with?" Steve challenged.

"Elise," Aunt Grandma said. "She's smart, strong, and logical. We'll make a good match."

Steve smirked. "Aren't you forgetting what happened to her last time she was in an alliance? Because I don't think she has."

"So?" Aunt Grandma asked. "That doesn't mean she won't need allies!"

"Does she, though?" Steve asked. "She's pretty clearly the strongest player here."

Aunt Grandma coughed. "I'm sorry, but did you see our fight? We were evenly matched, all the way through."

"Yes," Steve said. "Because she held back."

Aunt Grandma stared at Steve blankly. "What'd you say?"

"Elise. Held. Back," Steve enunciated. "She pulled her punches. She let you lead because she could anticipate every single one of your moves and copy them. She. Was. Superior. But she made it look good."

"That's not true," Aunt Grandma said flatly.

Steve grinned. "Face it. You're in second place."

Aunt Grandma's face twisted into an angry scowl and she punched Steve in the nose.

* * *

Boris was walking back to the cabin when a hand reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him into a bush. Boris spun around and delivered a punch to the owner of the hand and pulled out a dagger, ready to stab his attacker. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was his sudden recognition of the hand's owner.

"Snidely?" Boris asked, surprised. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Lemme make this quick," Snidely said. "Nazz and I need your help."

Boris scowled. "And why would I want to help you?"

"Good question," Snidely said. "How long do you think your little alliance will last?"

"What?" Boris asked.

"You heard what Chris said when he was assigning teams," Snidely said. "It's going to come down to four of you: Ingrid, Numbuh Two, Wendy, and you. And it's pretty obvious what's going to happen to you when that happens."

Boris crossed his arms and scoffed. "That's crazy. Wendy's the odd one out, if anything."

"How do you know that?" Snidely asked.

Boris's eyes flickered upward, but he remained silent.

"Exactly," Snidely said, pressing his advantage. "If you stick with Ingrid and Numbuh Two, you'll be booted out. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. Sticking with them is a guarantee that you lose in the end."

"And you're offering something better?" Boris asked.

Snidely grinned. "Trust me, Boris. If you vote with us tonight, you get a spot in an alliance that _has_ to stick together, simply because _none_ of us can afford to betray the others."

Boris thought about it for a few seconds and then extended his hand to shake. Snidely gladly took his hand and shook it.

Neither of them noticed that the other's hand was behind their back with its' fingers crossed.

* * *

Aunt Grandma stomped into the cabin, blood staining the knuckles of one of her gloves.

"What happened to your hand?" Marlowe asked, worried.

Aunt Grandma shrugged, smiling fakely. "I scraped my knuckles. Nothing to worry about."

Elise raised an eyebrow. "Doing what?"

Aunt Grandma's grin froze on her face. "Just–practicing my punches on a tree. It wasn't a good idea."

Elise looked at her skeptically.

"What?" Aunt Grandma asked defensively.

"Punching a tree?" Elise asked, obviously not believing her.

Aunt Grandma grinned falsely. "You were far superior to me onstage today. I was hoping that might make me a better fighter."

"Not a smart decision," Elise said haltingly.

"I know!" Aunt Grandma exclaimed. "Do you have any advice?"

"Okay, well, one thing I can suggest is..."

Marlowe watched with a growing sense of dismay as Aunt Grandma and Elise began talking about fighting, feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was something dangerous in their growing bond.

* * *

"I can't believe she did that," Ingrid said.

"Did what?" Numbuh Two asked.

"Just walked away, expecting us to vote for Nazz," Ingrid said. "I mean, what's up with that?"

Numbuh Two shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. I mean, Boris is on our side, and we agreed to vote for Snidely."

"Yeah, but what if Chris was right?" Ingrid asked. "What if we end up all turning on each other?"

"That's in the future," Numbuh Two said. "Me, you, Boris. That's three votes against Snidely. _Then_ we can focus on Nazz. We don't have anything to worry about."

Ingrid nodded. "You're right. Let's just get through this vote and deal with the results tomorrow."

* * *

Chris walked up behind the podium. He grinned as he looked at the six players in front of him.

"So. Predictable Formulas," Chris said. "You weren't supposed to be here today. Honestly, that's a bit of a break from the formula. Maybe you won't be so predictable after all. But, you're all here, so allow me to introduce tonight's campfire ceremony host...Ezekiel!"

Chris paused for a few seconds before breaking into a laugh. "Yeah, right! As if we'd let that freakshow anywhere near the island again! And no, it doesn't have anything to do with him getting a psychological exemption from coming on the show. Instead, for the first ceremony, I'll be hosting. Loyal viewers, pay attention: this is probably the most professional and therefore best executed campfire ceremony you'll see all season. So, the first marshmallow is going to go to somebody who didn't have any votes against them: Ingrid!"

Ingrid caught the marshmallow Chris tossed to her.

"Not only did you finish first last season, you get the first marshmallow this season," Chris said. "Now let's see who else is safe...Numbuh Two, you get the second marshmallow."

Numbuh Two caught the marshmallow and pumped his fist in celebration.

"And rounding out our top three, a marshmallow goes to...Boris!" Chris said. "Congratulations."

Boris opened his mouth and caught the marshmallow toss.

"Now, we're down to just three of you," Chris said. "Wendy, last season you made it pretty far before annoying Nazz with your insistence on taking charge of the female alliance and getting her to backstab you. Nazz, you ran an alliance, and kept your place at the top through backstabbing. It almost worked. _Almost_. And Snidely, you looked like a threat, what with your cross-team secret alliance that you planned to use to secretly run the game–until your cover got blown and you got voted out, by Nazz no less. Plus, you went onstage when you weren't supposed to."

Chris paused for dramatic effect. "Three players. Two marshmallows. And one. Eliminated. Camper. Who will it be?"

Chris fell silent. Nazz and Snidely both looked nervous, while Wendy looked completely calm and collected.

"Nazz!" Chris said loudly. Nazz started. "You're staying on!"

Chris tossed a marshmallow to Nazz, and she reacted late but still caught it. Wendy spun around, shocked.

"What?" she asked her teammates angrily. "You voted for Snidely instead of Nazz?"

Numbuh Two shrugged. "Sorry, Wendy. Snidely's the bigger threat."

Wendy scowled but turned back to Chris. "Fine. Give me my marshmallow and let's get this over with."

"Yeah, no," Chris said. "For a few reasons."

"Like what?" Wendy asked angrily.

"Well, for starters, this is supposed to be _dramatic_ ," Chris explained. "If I just tossed the marshmallows out, it wouldn't be dramatic at all. Plus, I love to make you guys squirm."

Wendy groaned. "Dude, we all know how this is going to play out."

"Or do we?" Chris asked.

Wendy frowned. "Fine. Be as dramatic as you want."

"Well, thanks to your outburst, this isn't dramatic anymore," Chris said. "So I guess the only thing to do is toss the last marshmallow to...Snidely."

"WHAT?" Wendy asked, shocked.

"Yeah, that's the other reason I can't just give you your marshmallow," Chris said. "See, you got voted out fair and square. So pack your bags–or not, we'll just send them to you. But the Dock of Shame and the Boat of Losers await!"

Wendy stared at him. "You're kidding me."

"Nope!" Chris said cheerfully. "Chef?"

Chef put a hand on Wendy's shoulder and escorted her away. Snidely was the first one to get up, and he walked away from the rest of his stunned team, whistling as he went.

"And with that, the Predictable Formulas go completely against the grain in booting off Wendy!" Chris said. "Who will go next? I have no idea, and neither do you! But it'll be dramatic and probably unexpected, so tune in next time, for another episode jam-packed with Total Drama, here on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Ingrid Third: Snidely Whiplash  
Wendy Corduroy: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Snidely Whiplash: Wendy Corduroy  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Wendy Corduroy  
Numbuh Two: Snidely Whiplash  
Boris Badenov: Wendy Corduroy

Final tally of votes:

Wendy Corduroy: 3  
Snidely Whiplash: 2  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 1


	4. The Queen Bee

**Enter...  
NAZZ VAN BARTONSCHMEER**

I honestly was not expecting that.

I thought that for sure I'd be on the boat home when Wendy and Ingrid made a big push to boot me off. I thought there was no way Snidely could deliver a third vote. And I thought that I'd definitely go from runner-up to early elimination.

Apparently not. Somehow Snidely managed to convince Boris to vote with us. And I'm safe for another day. Maybe even for a while longer, if we win enough.

I hope we win enough.

* * *

Chris's voice shreds the air. I groan as I heave myself up from my bed. Naturally, the first thing I see is the stony face of Ingrid.

"Hey, Ingrid," I say awkwardly. "How are you?"

Ingrid's expression doesn't change. "I've been better."

"That's–uh–" I falter, not sure how to respond.

"Of course, you've also put me in worse positions, and I think things worked out pretty well for me," Ingrid says.

I gulp. "Well–"

"So we'll just see how this plays out, won't we," Ingrid says.

Ingrid finishes getting dressed and walks out the door, letting it slam behind her.

* * *

We all meet on the docks. Chris is already waiting, making a big show of impatiently checking his watch.

"Finally!" he says. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?"

"Ten minutes?" Ruby suggests.

"Okay, yes, but it was a boring ten minutes!" Chris says. "I need to be entertained every minute of every hour of every day of every week! I need stimulation!"

"Geez, Chris, didn't know you had a cocaine habit," Steve says.

Chris scowls at him. "Not cool, bro. I had a friend with a bad coke habit once."

"He had a cocaine habit?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"You had a friend?" Numbuh Two asks.

Chris glares. "Shut it. All of you. And wait for our challenge giver to arrive."

* * *

The sun beats down on us as the day grows longer. Our challenge giver still hasn't shown up, and we're all roasting in the sun. Chris, notably, has gotten the interns to set up a lawn chair and an umbrella for him and is currently sipping a glass of lemonade.

Ingrid groans. "I thought you hated boredom."

Chris shrugs. "I hate it when _I'm_ bored. You guys being bored is fine."

"Come on, Chris!" Numbuh Two complains. "Quit holding out on us!"

Chris smirks. "Nah, I think I'll just let you quiver with antici..."

We waited several seconds for him to say it.

"SAY IT!" Aunt Grandma yells.

Chris just continues to smile.

* * *

"Look!" Ruby yells.

Only a few of us pay any attention to her. We've been stuck feeling the sun cook us for hours now, and several boats had already headed for the dock only to turn away at the last second and disappoint us. By now, I'm not going to move until it becomes absolutely necessary.

I hear somebody jump onto the dock, and we all look over at the newcomer. She looks back at us, expression unreadable behind her sunglasses, before she lowers them, revealing cold gray eyes.

"Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of Total Drama's most notable contestants, the one and only Heather!" Chris announces.

Heather doesn't smile as she looks us over. Finally, she speaks.

"Listen up, losers," Heather says. "I don't care about any of you, and I definitely didn't want to come back to this stinky, wretched, horrible _dump_ of an island. In fact, there's only one reason I'm here, and that's because of Chris's stupid contract!"

Chris grins. "Fine print. Live it. Love it."

"Shut it," Heather says. "Anyway, since I _have_ to come back here, I think it's only right that I teach you all what it takes to win on a reality show. Step one is forming interesting alliances. Boris, Snidely, and Nazz already got a head start on that one. Steve, you also tried to do exactly that, but you have no idea how to talk to women."

"Hey!" Steve complains.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Heather says, faking sympathy. "I'm sure that there are all kinds of women, all over the world, just lining up to _punch you in the nose_."

"Wait, is that why your gloves were bloody?" I hear Elise ask.

"Step two!" Heather announces. "Make sure not everyone hates you. I learned this one the hard way. Most of you are accomplishing this. Except Steve. And Marlowe."

"Wait, why me?" Marlowe asks.

"Because everyone you made friends with last time is or was on the other team, and everybody on _your_ team knows you sided with Nazz last season," Heather says. She turns to me. "By the way, well played, although I would've been a little crueler. Maybe then you wouldn't have lost in the finale."

"Because being mean worked out so well for you," Steve mutters sarcastically.

Heather purses her lips and turns to Aunt Grandma. "I see why you punched him."

"I'm surprised you haven't," Aunt Grandma says.

Heather examines her nails boredly. "I wouldn't want to mess up my manicure. Speaking of which, today's challenge is to pamper me to the best of your abilities!"

I look over and notice Boris and Snidely smirking sinisterly. Aunt Grandma and Elise cast dubious glances at our team, and Aunt Grandma rubs her hands together menacingly. A disturbed look crosses Heather's face.

"On second thought, today's challenge is to make a speech about how amazing I am," Heather corrects herself. " _After_ you spend the day pampering me. The winning team is the one that gives the better speech."

"Hold on," Numbuh Two says. "No offense, but what's the point of pampering you if it's all about the speech?"

Heather grins sinisterly, sunlight gleaming off of her teeth. "Good question. If you do a good job, I'll give you a little tidbit of information about the other people on your team and what they're doing. Of course, maybe you don't _need_ to know what everyone else is planning. Maybe you're perfectly secure in your position. Maybe you don't need the little pieces of the puzzle that somebody on the outside has, the little things that could mean the difference between elimination and survival."

Heather stops talking to let her words sink in.

"Your choice!" Heather says, chipper. She walks up the dock toward the island.

* * *

The first time around, I was walking a tightrope. I had to manipulate people so they all had the same goals and targets, subtly make sure that nobody grew more powerful than I did in our not-completely-obvious alliance, and do my best to make sure nobody figured out that I was the one pulling the strings.

I _almost_ pulled it off. But almost is another word for didn't. And now I'm back on that tightrope, but it's gotten a lot more dangerous. I need _every_ edge I can get if I want a shot at the ten million dollars. So I need to get in Heather's good graces and pump her for as much information as I can.

She's in the cafeteria right now, sitting on one of the benches and checking her phone. We're all there, in fact, although Heather seems to be doing her best to get rid of us. Eventually, it's just me and Boris in the lunchroom.

I swallow deeply and approach her.

"Hey, Heather," I say meekly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Heather gives me a searching glance and smirks. "Actually, how about you give me a pedicure?"

I grimace. "Didn't you have one of those done professionally before you came here?"

"Don't you need my advice to survive this game?" Heather asks sweetly.

I frown and bend down. She lifts her foot, and I slip her shoe off and get to work.

"You're not very good at this," Heather says eventually.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to working on other people," I say.

Heather smirks. "Hmm. Humility. Cute. Boris, get out of here."

"What?" Boris asks, surprised. "Why do I go?"

"Because I want to talk to Nazz in private," Heather says. "And you wouldn't want to cost your _team_ a chance to win...would you?"

Boris scowls but walks out the door.

"You're the first one to be at least competent at pampering me," Heather says. "It's like, ugh, hello! I want ice water with lemon and a sprig of mint, not lukewarm tap water!"

"Thanks," I say, flattered.

"That's why you're getting info," Heather says. "Ingrid and Numbuh Two...are working together."

I stop what I'm doing and look up at her. "And?"

"And what?" Heather asks snippily.

"Well, I mean, it's pretty obvious they have a thing for each other," I say.

"Oh, my advice isn't good enough?" Heather asks, offended.

"Not really," I say.

Heather sniffs. "Fine. Leave. And don't come back."

"But–"

"Go!" she barks.

I stand up and exit the cafeteria. That was a waste of time.

* * *

The one advantage of being sent away by Heather is that I didn't have to deal with anyone else since they were all busy trying to suck up to her. It's not that I don't like the other people here. I like them. But, well, they don't like me.

I can't really blame them, I guess. What I did wasn't exactly nice. I just figured that if it worked I'd have a million dollars, and if it didn't, I might still have a chance in the sequel. The one thing I didn't plan on for was for it to _almost_ work and leave me pretty much alone. I mean, I'm depending on _Snidely_ to save my skin this time around.

I snap to attention when I hear Heather's voice over the loudspeakers.

"Alright, wannabes, meet me by the cabins. It's speech time," she says.

I head outside. Soon, everyone else arrives. Heather is the last to show up, and when she does, she crosses her arms and looks at us impatiently.

"Well?" she asks. "I'm waiting. Send up your speechgiver."

Crap. None of us planned to have just one person give the speech.

"Okay, who's doing this?" Ingrid asks, all business.

"I think it should be Nazz," Numbuh Two says. "Wasn't Heather like one of the villains?"

"A villain?" Snidely asks. "Why not choose me? I am a _master_ villain!"

"No, I am!" Boris says. "I am the master villain here!"

"Please," Snidely says. "You're not even fit to polish my cane."

"Nazz!" Ingrid exclaims. "Do you have a problem with giving the speech?"

"No," I say. "I can probably do this. Hopefully."

"You'd better," Ingrid says. "Because–"

"Okay, this is boring!" Heather loudly says, interrupting everybody. "Since none of you planned in advance, I'm choosing...Ingrid and Marlowe. Why am I amazing? Go."

"Why us?" Marlowe asks, shocked.

Heather rolls her eyes. "Because you're here. Now get on with it!"

"Okay," Marlowe says nervously. "Um, Heather is the best contestant because, um, she's...good at making people do stuff for her? And because she's gotten far in a bunch of seasons because she's devious and smart? Also, her boyfriend is hot. Heather is also great because–"

"Okay, this is just pathetic," Heather says. "Ingrid, _please_ tell me you can do a better job at sucking up than your friend."

Ingrid takes a deep breath and exhales. She takes another breath and stares directly at Heather.

"Heather is not the best person. She is, however, a great competitor. She is a skillful manipulator who never gives up, who always does her best to guarantee victory even though it might come at personal cost to her. Whenever Heather is in the game, she usually ends up exerting some form of control over it, even when the majority of the other competitors are against her. Heather is perhaps the most skilled player Total Drama has ever had, and has always been interesting to watch simply because of her skill in the game."

Heather shrugs. "That wasn't very good either. But it was better than Marlowe's attempt. You guys win. Now where's my boat home?"


	5. The Sister with 'Tude

**Enter...  
ELISE [REDACTED]**

Same poop, different pants. That's the best way to describe today. Stuck on a team that can't really win, with a bunch of nutjobs who don't know what the heck they're even doing. Honestly, I think most of them hate each other on some level, and I'm _pretty_ sure I'm not projecting when I say that. I mean, Marlowe's nice enough, I guess, although she was responsible for us losing today. Ruby also seems nice, although I don't quite trust her when she says she wants to be voted off, I mean, who gives up a chance at a million dollars? But Steve...there's something about him I don't feel like I can trust, and not just because he figured out what Snidely and I were up to last time. Honestly, him turning on us was one of the few intelligent moves he made. But there's something off about him this time that I can't quite put my finger on. It's like he's not really here, like he's stuck thinking about the future. Or maybe the past. Either way he doesn't ever seem to be in the moment. Speaking of which...

"Okay, guys," Ruby said. "Remember how yesterday I said I wanted to be voted out?"

"Yeah?" Steve said uncertainly.

"Well that's still true," she said. "So could I please have your votes?"

I shrugged. "No problem."

Aunt Grandma grinned wickedly. "You got it."

Getting back to how everyone here is...well, weird, for lack of a better term, Aunt Grandma seems dangerously psychotic. Her interest in bettering her fighting skills is just the tip of the iceberg. Her general insincerity and the fact that she grins wickedly when she thinks nobody's watching just _screams_ villain. On top of that, Dale Gribble is just as paranoid as ever. He's not as bad as Dan, at least, but I'm not thrilled about having to share a team with him. Especially since his guesses are so often wrong! At least Dan manages to get something right _occasionally_.

The good news is that I'm safe for today, what with Ruby wanting to go home. Or at least, with her saying she does. I don't doubt that she's going to get people to vote her out. Well, she'll get Marlowe's vote. I can't say that I'd believe anything anybody else on this team says about their votes, and not just because my entire job hinges upon me being paranoid. NOBODY here can be trusted. Not that the other team is much better, but honestly, I wonder if they just chose the weirdest people they could to appear on this show.

* * *

I walked into the cabin panting and dripping sweat and found one of my cabinmates waiting for me. Aunt Grandma. What kind of a _name_ is that, anyway? It makes _no_ sense, even as an alias. What's it supposed to suggest, that she's both an Aunt and a Grandmother? And if so, that's...honestly, that's a very disturbing implication that I don't think I want to follow.

I stripped off my shirt and fell onto my bed. I could wait to put on a new shirt until I went out again, and I needed to cool off. This summer felt like it was lasting forever, even though that made no sense. Still, it felt the same outside as it did when I first arrived at camp.

I looked over at Aunt Grandma. She's reading a book; something about dead dogs, not that that's important. Either way, it's a stroke of luck that she's the only one here right now, because while I was exercising, I was also thinking about the competition. See, the way I see it, Ruby wanting to be voted off is a good thing. It means that she can be counted on to vote for herself every time. That assumes she's not lying, of course, but she doesn't have anything to gain by lying because it's more likely than not that everyone else will vote for her and she'll get the boot. Which is where my plan comes in.

The way I see it, Ruby's reluctance to continue in the game is a gigantic blaring opportunity to clear the way for me. Not that I necessarily want to keep Ruby on forever, but she's one of the more likable people on my team so I don't exactly want to get rid of her, and on top of that, the fact that I can assume _one_ vote is helpful for assessing what the final vote will be. The point is, keeping Ruby on is good for me. If I can get somebody else kicked off the island in her place, that's a win for me on two levels. And while I was exercising, it occurred to me that Marlowe is the best target; last time around, she made friends and got pretty far in the competition, but she hasn't really made any friends on our team–yet. If allowed to stick around, she probably will, which means that now is the best time to get rid of her if I don't want to have to deal with her later on.

It's not that I particularly like Dale Gribble, or Aunt Grandma. It's just that they're not likely to make it as far as Marlowe. Nipping her in the bud is in my best interest. Especially since Snidely _somehow_ managed to find more patsies for another alliance, which means if I want revenge on him, I'll probably have to last past the merge _and_ be in a position to take him down.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that if I want to get rid of Marlowe, this may be my best opportunity.

"So, Aunt Grandma," I said. She looked up. "Who are you planning on voting for tonight?"

Aunt Grandma grinned insincerely. "Why do you ask? Do you have somebody in mind?"

"Maybe," I said. "But then again, you did promise to vote for Ruby."

Aunt Grandma locked eyes with me. "I did, didn't I. And you did too. Yet here you are, asking me who I'm going to vote for. Don't you trust me?"

"Not particularly, no," I admitted.

The grin stayed fixed on Aunt Grandma's face. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"It's true," I said.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "Ruby's going to be voted off tonight, no matter how I vote, so asking me who I'm going to vote for is pointless. Unless, of course, you _don't_ think it's pointless."

I kept my mouth shut. Aunt Grandma's grin became more predatory.

"You don't think it's pointless, do you," she said. "Come on. Tell Aunt Grandma what you're really thinking about. Or should I say who?"

I thought about it.

"Marlowe," I finally said.

Aunt Grandma's grin dropped off her face, and she raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why Marlowe?"

"I was on her team last season, and she's not what she seems," I lied. "That time she backstabbed Nazz? She was planning it from the start. She's really out for herself, and if we don't get rid of her, she'll manipulate her way past all of us."

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. "I don't think Marlowe's that type of person."

I shrugged. "You believe what you want to believe."

"I will, thank you," Aunt Grandma said. "And I believe I'm voting for Ruby, because I'm not the type of person to go back on my word." She grinned at me fiercely.

* * *

By the time that we were supposed to cast our votes, I'd concluded that Aunt Grandma is right. After all, Ruby wants to go home, and it wouldn't be right for me to stop her just because I think it would be better for me in the long run.

I was one of the last ones in line, and I idly glanced over the line as I waited. Soon after I arrived, Dale exited the voting booth and Aunt Grandma went in. The only one in front of me was Steve, and as usual he seemed to be in a different world, although there was an air of nervousness surrounding him. It almost made me wonder if he expected to be voted off.

Aunt Grandma left the voting booth and Steve went in. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited, since I just wanted to get this over with and focus on winning the next few challenges to try and shore up my position. Eventually, Steve got out, and I entered the booth. While there, I thought about voting for Marlowe again, but decided against it.

Ruby wants to go home. I might as well make sure it happens.

* * *

We had all been waiting for several minutes when a heavyset black girl finally walked up to the podium.

"Hey y'all, Leshawna in the house!" she declared. "Sorry about the wait, but the folks around here aren't real big on getting things done on time. Least not when it comes to y'all. But hey, it's nice to be back here, especially since I don't have to put up with Chris's dumb challenges." She sighed. "So, you're the ones voting someone out? Mmmp. You hate to see that happen. Part of the game, though. So let's get to it and start tossing out some of those delicious marshmallows. First one goes to...Steve!"

Steve caught his marshmallow. "Thanks."

"You enjoy it, white boy," Leshawna said. "Next marshmallow goes to...Aunt–Aunt Grandma? What kind of a name is that?"

Aunt Grandma's face soured. "It's meant to signify how I help the children of the world?"

Leshawna shrugged and tossed her a marshmallow. "Whatever you say, crazy girl. Dale!"

Dale caught his marshmallow. "Thanks."

Leshawna raised an eyebrow. "What, not going to prove how weird you are by saying something crazy?"

Dale didn't respond. Leshawna shrugged and moved on.

"Steve," she said. "Now it's down to you two. Elise, Ruby, there's one marshmallow left. One of you two is going home."

Leshawna picked up the last marshmallow and looked between us. She then tossed the marshmallow to Ruby.

"Sorry, Elise," she said sympathetically. "I guess you lose."

"WHAT?" Ruby and I both asked, shocked.

"That's impossible!" Ruby declared. "I asked everyone else to vote me out! _I_ voted _myself_ out!"

"Sorry, sugar," Leshawna said. "To get voted out, you need a majority of the votes. It doesn't matter that you voted for yourself. Elise?"

"Yeah, whatever," I spat, standing up. "I'm going."

I walked down to the Dock of Shame, where the boat was waiting to take me away. As I boarded, I shook my head. Everyone else on my team was definitely going to regret getting rid of their strongest player.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Ruby Gloom: Ruby Gloom  
Marlowe: Elise  
Steve: Elise  
Elise: Ruby Gloom  
Aunt Grandma: Elise  
Dale Gribble: Elise

Final tally of votes cast:

Elise: 4  
Ruby Gloom: 2


	6. The Dumb Princess

**Enter...  
DALE GRIBBLE**

I wake up before anyone else in my cabin. That's not a big accomplishment. The only other person in my side of the cabin is Steve, and he's still sleeping. I'm not sure what he's doing here. He always wears a lab coat, but he doesn't really seem to be much of a scientist. At least, not the type that comes up with groundbreaking inventions that get covered up by the U.N. and hidden in black-box facilities.

Still, he's probably harmless enough. I haven't noticed anything weird about him so far, so I don't think he's a government agent. Not that he doesn't have his quirks, but hey, we all have little things that make us seem strange. Like Hank and his propane obsession, or Bill and his constant whining. As far as I can tell, he's not going to pull a badge on anyone.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Chris says over the loudspeakers. "It's a beautiful day for all you beautiful people. Now get down to the mess hall. Breakfast is served!"

Chef still hasn't figured out how to cook after all this time. I'm pretty sure he's not infesting our nervous systems with mind-controlling viruses, but I still don't trust him.

* * *

When we arrive at the cafeteria, we find ten plates laid out, with a lettuce leaf on each plate.

"What is this rabbit food?" I ask suspiciously.

"Breakfast!" Chris says, grinning.

"Not that I don't enjoy a nice salad," Aunt Grandma says, "but why are we having lettuce for breakfast?"

"For that, you can blame our challenge giver," Chris says, still grinning. "Allow me to introduce the beautiful and multi-lingual Lindsay!"

"Multi-lingual?" Ingrid asks, disbelieving.

"Uh-huh!" Lindsay says, exiting the kitchen. "I speak both English _and_ American! Ooh! And Canadian, too!"

"Right..." Aunt Grandma drawls sarcastically. "And what's today's challenge?"

"Well, see, when I heard I was going to get to give out a challenge, I was totally stoked!" Lindsay exclaims. "And when I heard it was going to be a prize challenge–"

"Lindsay!" Chris barks.

"What?" Lindsay asks innocently. "It is a prize challenge, right?"

Chris groans. "Yes, it is. But you weren't supposed to tell them that!"

"Why not?" Lindsay asks.

Chris scowls. "More. Tension."

"Ohhhh!" Lindsay says, recognition suddenly dawning. "Sorry, Chuck."

"It's–y'know what, close enough," Chris says. "Go on."

"Go where?" Lindsay asks, confused. "I thought I was supposed to be here."

Chris groans. "Just tell them what their challenge is supposed to be."

"Oh! Right!" Lindsay says. "Well, at first I wanted us to have a shopping spree so everyone could take home new clothes and become super stylish, like me! But then Chris said we couldn't do that because there aren't any malls around here. I think he's wrong, because I saw one on the way in–ooh! We should go!"

"NO!" Chris barks. "It's not! In! The budget!"

"Don't you always spend the show's budget on yourself?" Ingrid asks suspiciously.

"Hey, hosting this good doesn't come cheap," Chris defends himself.

"But the former campers are taking over most of the hosting duties," Numbuh Two points out. "Shouldn't they be getting paid instead of you?"

"They _are_ getting paid!" Chris exclaims. "Mainly because our previous contracts were nullified in a class-action lawsuit, but anyway! Not! In! The! Budget!"

"Okay, so, what's the challenge?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"A fashion show!" Lindsay exclaims. "Two people will design, two will model, and one's going to decide everything, which is a super important job since you have to make sure everybody's ready to go. So I'm going to choose the decider!"

"I volunteer!" Aunt Grandma pipes up.

Lindsay looks her over critically. "Sorry, but no. I mean, look at you, you don't have any fashion sense."

"What?" Aunt Grandma asks, shocked.

"You're a _total_ fashion trainwreck," Lindsay says. "The pants are shiny, the shoes are tacky, the shirt is unimpressive and doesn't accentuate your best features, I don't know what's up with the hat, and honestly, rainbow suspenders? I don't know what you're thinking, but that ensemble doesn't say fashion show coordinator. It kind of says clown, actually."

Aunt Grandma glares at Lindsay. Lindsay moves on. "Let's see. Samantha, you're always twirling your mustache, majorly creepy. Bertha, you're short and your clothes are boring and ugly. David, you're always wearing that trucker hat, and it really doesn't suit you. Nancy, you're a total meanie. Nathan, why are you always wearing those goggles? Major fashion no-no. Agrias, that dress is nice but it's all boring and black. Seth, you're always wearing a lab coat even though you're not a doctor. Robbie, you're kinda Gwenish, but I guess you pull it off, so you're one decider. Martha, pink isn't really your color, but you're the most stylish person left, so you're a decider too."

Marlowe and Ruby share a look.

"We're on the same team," Marlowe says.

"Ohhhh!" Lindsay says. "Oh. Okay, Marvin, you're one decider, and uh, Nelson, you're the other decider, because I guess you're kinda cute."

Ingrid and Nazz stare at each other. Nazz steps forward.

"Not _you_ , Neko!" Lindsay says. "Him!"

Lindsay points at Numbuh Two. He shrugs.

"Alright," he says. "So what do I do?"

"Decide a fashion show!" Lindsay says.

Chef steps out of the kitchen. "Not that I know anything about fashion, but maybe you should give them a little more guidance?"

"Ohhhh!" Lindsay says. "Okay. So, uh, you two make sure everything runs smoothly, and on your teams you have two designers and two models, where the designers design and the models model, and you have until this afternoon to get everything ready for me and Chris and Chef, and we'll judge your designs, and the winning team gets a prize!"

"Thanks," Numbuh Two says. "I think we've got all that. Well, let's go guys."

The Predictable Formulas tromp out of the cafeteria. After a few seconds Marlowe claps her hands.

"Yeah," she says nervously. "Let's go design and model."

* * *

We gather in the girls' side of the cabin. Aunt Grandma paces the floor.

"I can't believe she didn't realize that I have fashion sense!" she rants. "My outfit is supposed to resemble Uncle Grandpa's! It's a whole _thing_ I'm doing! How did she not see that?"

"Well, in her defense, Lindsay isn't exactly the brightest bulb on the tree," Steve points out.

Marlowe nods. "Yeah. So, I guess we need to choose models and designers."

Nobody says anything until Aunt Grandma speaks up again.

"Seriously! I pull this off!" she rants angrily. "I make this look work! And it looks a lot better on me than it ever did on Uncle Grandpa!"

"I guess I can sew something," Ruby says. "Or model, if you guys want to design."

"I'm going to design and model my own outfit," Aunt Grandma declares. "That way, nothing can stop me."

Marlowe nods. "Sounds good."

The door is thrown open, revealing Chris.

"Sorry, campers, but that's against the rules!" Chris says. "You can't model your own designs. Marlowe, I'm shocked you were going to go along with that. You could've cost your team the prize! Don't you have any team spirit?"

Marlowe looks over at him, shocked. Chris grins and points finger pistols at us.

"Right. Get back to your strategy session, and try to design something hilarious. I could use the laugh," he says before stepping out again.

Aunt Grandma growls. "Great. Fine. I'll just design something. Which of you two is going to be my model?"

Steve and I look at each other nervously.

"Um, I'm with Ruby," I say quickly.

Aunt Grandma grits her teeth and glares at me, pure rage flaming behind her eyes.

"Okay," Steve says awkwardly. "I guess that means you're designing for me, right Aunt Grandma?"

Steve chuckles nervously. Aunt Grandma just glares at him angrily.

* * *

I'm standing around awkwardly in the guys' side of the cabin. Aunt Grandma wanted to use the girls' side herself, and none of us particularly wanted to argue with her. She's really scary; I don't think I got that the first time around, but there's definitely something threatening about her. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that she works for the Department of Education. Either way, Ruby's in the room with me, messing around with a tape measure, having me move so she can get my measurements correct.

Ruby marks something down on a piece of paper and then turns around and begins rummaging around in the fabric she brought back to the cabin with her. She looks at the sketch she's made, nods, and then continues to fiddle about. I just stand there awkwardly as Ruby starts working. She sighs.

"What's wrong?" I ask. I'm not completely oblivious to how other people feel.

Ruby sighs. "I miss my friends."

I wait a few seconds, but she doesn't continue.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"It's just–" Ruby starts before cutting herself off. "I can't believe–I thought I was going to get to go home last night, you know? But somehow everyone voted for Elise."

"That's not true," I tell her. "I tried to vote you off." I pause. "That _is_ what you wanted, right?"

"Yes," Ruby says. "But everyone else–I thought they were my friends! And there's no way Elise voted for herself, so that means that everybody but me and her and I guess you voted her off, so–that means I don't really have any friends on this team!"

"Hey, you don't know that," I console her. "Maybe they wanted to keep you around because they think you're their friend."

"But I just want to go home!" Ruby says. "It's not nice of them to keep me on when I just want to leave!"

I shrug. "Maybe they think you're throwing away a chance at ten million dollars and they don't want you to regret it for the rest of your life."

"I don't _need_ ten million dollars!" Ruby cries. "I need my friends."

Ruby slumps in her chair, and I feel horrible because I made her feel worse. Ruby lets out another sigh and continues sewing.

"For what it's worth, I'd like to be your friend," I venture.

"I'd like to be your friend too," Ruby says. "I don't want to be anyone's enemy, I just–I just want to go home."

"I know you do," I say. I walk up behind her, hesitate for a moment, and then rest my hand on her shoulder. "And I promise, I'll do everything I can to make sure you go home."

Ruby smiles a little and sits up, sewing with renewed vigor.

* * *

"Okay, finished!"

I'm startled out of my nap by Ruby declaring that she's finished. I look over to her and see her smiling brightly.

"Oh," I say. "Sorry for falling asleep."

"No problem!" Ruby says. "I think it suits you!"

Ruby gestures to her creation: a black sweater, gray jeans, and a pair of red sneakers.

I look at it, carefully keeping my face neutral. "Do you think this will work for a fashion show?"

Ruby sigh. "I–don't know. I just couldn't get my mind off of Skullboy. If you hate it, I–"

"I don't hate it!" I say quickly. "It's nice, I'm just surprised."

Ruby doesn't respond.

"Hey, c'mon," I say, smiling. "You're the designer, I'm the model. We're a team. I'm sure it'll work out just fine."

Ruby nods and smiles. "You're right. Could you try it on so I can see what I have to adjust?"

"Sure," I say. "But could you, um, give me a little privacy?"

Ruby nods and slips out the cabin door. I quickly change into the outfit.

"Okay, ready!" I call outside.

Ruby comes in. She grins. "How does it feel?"

"It feels great," I tell her.

I'm not lying. Everything feels like it was tailored for my body–which I guess it was, actually. Still, it feels comfortable on me, and judging from Ruby's smile, it doesn't look half-bad.

"I think we're ready," Ruby says confidently.

* * *

We move to the auditorium. We're given one half of the backstage, with two dressing rooms so nobody sees our designs. Marlowe paces nervously as she makes sure everybody's ready.

"For the fifth time, yes," Aunt Grandma says, annoyed. "I can't believe I can't model my creation."

"Don't worry," Ruby says. "I'm sure you'll do great."

"If Steve doesn't mess up," Aunt Grandma says darkly.

Steve scowls. Lindsay walks backstage.

"You guys all ready?" she asks happily. "Because it's showtime! Megan, is everyone ready to go?"

"Yes," Marlowe says quickly. "We're all ready, yes."

"Okay," Lindsay says. "Who's going first?"

Marlowe's face goes blank and I swear I can hear her heart beating from where I sit. Maybe the invading Mongolian armies of 2087 performed a secret surgery on me, giving me super hearing so I can hear people's hearts beating.

No, that's stupid. Marlowe's just nervous.

"We will," I say, surprising even myself. "Me and Ruby."

Lindsay nods. "Okay! You're on soon!"

Marlowe exhales heavily. "Thanks, Dale."

"Yeah," Aunt Grandma says bitterly. "Thanks."

"Look at it this way," Ruby says. "You get to go last and wow the judges with your amazing creation!"

Aunt Grandma thinks about it, and a smile crosses her face. "Yes. You're right."

Suddenly, a thumping beat begins to play, and it segues into a modern techno track.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and loser campers!" Chris announces. "We are proud to welcome everyone to the first ever Wawanakwa Fashion Show! Featuring the creations of Nazz Van Bartonschmeer, Ruby Gloom, Boris Badenov, and Aunt Grandma, the modeling of Snidely, Dale, Ingrid, and Steve, and the coordination abilities of Marlowe and Numbuh Two! Now let's get to it with our first model, Snidely, showing off the work of Nazz Van Bartonschmeer!"

We watch from the wings as Snidely struts down the catwalk–at least, until Marlowe shoves me into one of the dressing rooms.

"Hey, what's going on?" I ask, confused.

"Get ready!" Marlowe hisses. "Get dressed, you're up next!"

I quickly change into the outfit I'm modeling. As I tie my shoes, I hear a conversation happening at the front of the stage.

"So, Nazz, interesting choice," Chris says. "A black suit with a white tie? It's not very inventive."

"Perhaps," Nazz admits, "but I wanted to stick close to Snidely's personal style while bringing out both his refinement and villainous nature."

"Refinement I can buy," Chef says, "well kind of, but where's the villainous nature?"

"Red cuff links," Nazz says. "Subtle, but a definite warning sign."

"Speaking of warning signs," Chris says, "how about you two villains being paired up as designer and model? Hmm? Anything going on with that?"

"That's just how things worked out," Nazz says.

"Well then, I think we're ready to give our scores," Chris says. "Chef?"

"Seven out of ten," Chef says. "Not very inventive, but Snidely does look pretty good in it. Chris?"

"I'll give it a seven," Chris says. "For the same reasons as Chef. Lindsay?"

"The design is good," Lindsay says. "But couldn't you have chosen a prettier model?"

"No," Nazz says bluntly.

"Oh," Lindsay says. "Well, anyway, I liked it, but your model is like, super ugly. No offense!" she hastily adds. "Seven out of ten."

"Thank you," Nazz says. I hear footsteps heading towards me and Marlowe throws the door open.

"Get out here!" she hisses angrily. "You're up!"

"And now, we're proud to introduce, Dale, showing off the artistry of Ruby Gloom!" Chef proclaims. "Aw, man, Chris, did I really have to do that?"

"Yes," Chris says.

I walk onstage, doing my best to appear serious and composed. I walk down the runway, turn, and walk the other way. Lindsay applauds.

"Ooh! Is it question time now?" she asks excitedly.

Chris nods. "So, Ruby, we've got some questions for you."

Ruby peeks out from backstage. "For me?"

"Yes!" Lindsay exclaims happily. "This is the part where we ask you about your design and why you chose what you did!"

"Oh," Ruby says. She steps out from backstage. "Well, okay."

"Good!" Chris says, and I notice him smiling. That's never a good sign. "Why did you choose to go with a casual look?"

"Well, I thought it would suit Dale," Ruby says meekly.

"Why?" Chris asks. "Don't you think he's a fancy guy? Doesn't he deserve a suit."

Ruby wilts. "Well, I–"

"Hey!" I say. "I had to wear a suit to work in an office once. It did _not_ work out well, and then I had to crush all my roaches. Casual is _just fine_ with me."

"I'm sorry," Chris says icily. "Was I asking the model?"

"Well–" I start to say.

"No I was not!" Chris says. "These are questions for the designer, and you are the model! You do not get to choose what you wear! Ruby, did you let him tell you what to create?"

"No!" Ruby says quickly. "This is just a design that was on my mind!"

"Well it's not very creative," Lindsay says. "The black sweater is uninventive, and grey really isn't his color. Also, what's with the sneakers?"

"Well, I–" Ruby starts to say.

"Three out of ten!" Lindsay says. "Sorry."

"C'mon, it's not that bad," Chef argues. "It looks comfy enough and it's well-tailored. Six out of ten."

Chris shrugs. "Meh. Five."

Ruby sighs and heads backstage. I follow her.

"Halfway through the Wawanakwa fashion show, the Predictable Formulas have the lead on the strength of Nazz's conventional design!" Chris announces. "Will they keep it? Or will Aunt Grandma and Steve turn the tables? Find out after the break, here, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

Ruby and I join the others backstage.

"Good try, guys," Marlowe says nervously. "Aunt Grandma, it's going to be up to you. You ready?"

Aunt Grandma nods. "I was _born_ ready."

"I'm not!" Steve objects.

"No, you _are_ ," Aunt Grandma says angrily. "Or else, I'll make you _wish_ you were ready!"

Marlowe groaned. "C'mon, guys. Keep it together."

"Ooh! My turn!" Lindsay squeals. "People! Please welcome Ingrid, designed for by Boris Badenov!"

We peek out of the wings and see Ingrid walk down the runway, dressed normally. The techno cuts off with the sound of a record scratch.

"Okay, _what_ is this?" Chris asks angrily. "You were supposed to be wearing something stupid so we could point and laugh!"

"No she wasn't!" Lindsay objects. "This was supposed to test their creativity and fashion sense!"

Chris laughs meanly. "Yeah, where's the fun in that? Bad clothes get good ratings, Lindsay."

"Well I like it," Lindsay says. "It kind of suits her, although it is a little plain."

"I give it two points," Chef says. "No effort whatsoever."

"I'm with you," Chris says. "Two points."

"Two points!" Lindsay cheers. "Wait, no. _Six_ points."

"Fine," Chris says. "Boris! Get out here!"

Boris shuffles onto the stage. "Yes, chief?" he asks.

"What were you _thinking_?" Chris asks, flabbergasted. "Didn't you put any effort into your design?"

I can hear Boris smiling as he says "I believe Ingrid wears her clothes with authority, and who am I to try to improve on perfection?"

"You weren't asked to improve upon perfection, you were asked to improve upon Ingrid!" Chris says. "Because of that, you've easily turned in the worst design of the fashion show! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I guess I just wasn't cut out to be a fashion designer," Boris says.

"Aw, that's okay, Bernie!" Lindsay says. "Some of us just aren't fashion-friendly."

Chris groans. "Whatever. Let's just move on to the last group. Get outta here."

Boris and Ingrid leave the stage. Chris clears his throat.

"And now, our final design by Aunt Grandma, modeled by Steve!" he announces.

Steve doesn't come out. Marlowe yanks open the door to the dressing room and gapes in astonishment. She turns around and looks at us, shock written on her face.

"Okay, we definitely can't send him out like this," Marlowe manages to say.

"No, we _will_ ," Aunt Grandma says determinedly. "This design will win us the competition."

"No, it won't–" Marlowe objects.

Before Marlowe can say any more, Aunt Grandma reaches into the dressing room, grabs Steve, and yanks him outside. Steve looks embarrassed, and for good reason. He's wearing a black and white dress with red heels that might look elegant if it was on a beautiful woman. Steve isn't beautiful, and I'm pretty sure he's not a woman, either.

"Please, Aunt Grandma!" Steve begs. "Don't make me do this!"

Aunt Grandma shoves him forward, and Steve stumbles onto the stage, falling flat on his face. The silence from the judges is audible as Steve picks himself up and walks down the catwalk awkwardly, obviously just wanting to get the whole thing over with.

"O-kay," Chris says as soon as Steve finishes. "Aunt Grandma, we uh, we have some questions."

Aunt Grandma grins at us confidently as she walks out onto the stage. The rest of us look at each other.

"We lost, didn't we," I ask.

Ruby Gloom shrugs. "C'mon, it's not like we couldn't win–"

"Yes," Marlowe says bluntly. "We just lost."

"So, Aunt Grandma," Lindsay starts, "Um, why did you put Sylvester in a dress?"

"My name's Steve, actually," Steve says.

"Shut up, Sylvester," Chris says. "Yeah, Aunt Grandma. Why's he wearing a dress?"

"Because you wouldn't let me model my own design," Aunt Grandma says.

"Okay, but like, did you adjust the dress at all?" Lindsay asks. "I have to have that done sometimes."

"Of course!" Aunt Grandma says. "It's not my fault he's built like a beanpole."

"Did you consider doing something _besides_ a dress?" Chef asks. "Because he didn't seem to like wearing it."

"Psh," Aunt Grandma says. "Like it matters what he likes."

"Okay," Chris says slowly. "Has everyone made their decisions?"

"One," Lindsay says.

"WHAT?" Aunt Grandma asks, shocked.

"Well the dress didn't fit, and it was modeled poorly, and it wasn't very nice anyway," Lindsay says. "Plus, you didn't even, like, try to find something that worked for Steve, and you were a total meanie about it too! One out of ten!"

"Yeah, I'm with her," Chef says. "One out of ten."

"Not that it matters, since the Overthought Reboots have won off of Nazz's design," Chris says, "but I'm going to side with Chef and Lindsay. One out of ten! Now, Lindsay, how about you tell the Predictable Formulas what they've won?"

"Okay!" Lindsay chirps perkily. "Come out here!"

The Predictable Formulas shuffle out onto the catwalk. Marlowe, Ruby, and I look at them from the wings.

"For your great fashion sense and creations, you get a fully-stocked makeup kit with all the nicest makeups, including some of my personal favorites!" she says. "Feel free to use them however you want, but remember to share!"

Aunt Grandma growls and stomps out of the auditorium.

* * *

Dinner is a tense affair. While today could have gone better, I don't mind losing, especially since the prize was just makeup. Neither Ruby nor Marlowe seem too broken up about it, but Aunt Grandma is on edge, and her bad attitude is poisoning the dinner table.

"You know, I did try to tell you it was a bad idea to put me in a dress," Steve volunteers.

Aunt Grandma turns and glares at him so fiercely I'm shocked his head doesn't explode.

"It was just an opinion," Steve says weakly, cowed.

"He's right, you know," Marlowe says.

Aunt Grandma turns her glare on her. Marlowe shrinks back but keeps eye contact.

"Honestly, he didn't look good in a dress, and it doesn't sound like he wanted to wear it," Marlowe says. "You probably should have listened to him."

" _You_ probably should have done a _better_ job _coordinating_ ," Aunt Grandma growls.

Great. This doesn't bode well for our team. I just hope tomorrow's challenge doesn't involve much teamwork.


	7. The Athletic Overachiever

_i press my fist into his throat. i feel his trachea and windpipe bulging against my knuckles, begging to budge the pressure but unable to move my hand away. i keep the pressure on and look down, directly into his eyes, as his tear ducts swell and begin watering._

 _"please" he begs "please stop"_

 _"what's the magic word"_

 _he chokes._

 _"what's the magic word"_

 _"goo–"_

 _"WRONG!"_

 _i shove my knife right into his jugular and quickly turn it up so not much blood will spurt out. some does but not enough to kill, just enough to get his attention._

 _"you know you're gonna die now"_

 _his eyes are filled with pain as he looks up at me._

 _"what did i do to deserve–"_

 _i press the handle down, shoving it deeper into his neck, and blood spurts out of the wound. i turn the knife again, mostly plugging the slit._

 _"you know what you did"_

 _"what did i do to deserve–"_

 _i press the handle down again, wiggling the knife deeper. another spurt of blood and i turn it upright but stop when i hit bone. a grin spreads across my face as i hold the knife steady and blood pours out of the jugular vein._

 _"what did i do to deserve this"_

 _i don't answer. one sharp twitch and i can end this. i can slice through his spinal cord and ruin his central nervous system. although if i just draw the knife out the blood loss will end him. and i could always just continue pressing down on his windpipe and choke him to death._

 _a tear rolls down his cheek and i decide to answer his question._

 _i bend down to his face until my lips are hovering an inch from his cheek and then stick out my tongue and lick up the tear and oh god it tastes so wonderful like i always imagined it would but sweeter._

 _i swallow the tear._

 _"hey, how about we play h–"_

"WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKEEEEEE UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPP!"

I jolted and found myself sitting in bed.

Goddammit.

 **Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

I rubbed my eyes as the person on the loudspeakers continued to ramble on.

"Sha-bing, sha-bam, sha-boom! Sha-Lightning is back in the house!" the owner of the voice–somebody called 'Shalightning', apparently–continued. "And today is the best day of your lives, because you get to spend it with me! Lighting! So get over to breakfast, and get ready, because today, you're gonna have the toughest challenge any of you have ever faced! Sha-zam!"

The loudspeakers clicked off. I scowled and began getting dressed. As I got ready to start the day, my head cleared and I remembered the previous day.

 _the black widow's venom is fifteen times as toxic as that of the rattlesnake and symptoms of its neurotoxic poison include severe nerve pain, abdominal cramps, and muscle spasms_

Steve. Of course it's his fault we lost. If he hadn't done such a horrible job of modeling my hard work, we would have won easily. Instead, he spent all his time complaining, shifted around so I couldn't get good measurements, and then looked like a complete fool on the catwalk, which made _me_ look like a complete fool to the whole world. And Marlowe sided with him, probably because she's trying to start an alliance. I just know that she's more devious than she appears. She'll be a threat if I let her move on. Not to mention that devious Dale. Going under an assumed name for an entire season is a clear sign that he's up to no good, and no amount of crazy made-up conspiracy theories will ever convince me that he's not actually a master tactician. Clearly he's just using the conspiracies to make himself look insane. He has to be wilier than he seems. And Ruby, I just know _she_ has some sort of an angle. She's setting herself up as no threat at all, but this doesn't fool me. Obviously she wants the rest of us to take each other out and ignore her since she thinks we'll all assume she's wasting her vote.

I pushed into the cafeteria and saw that for once, there was a decent breakfast available. Huge amounts of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and oatmeal were laid out at the counter, and Chef was heaping everybody's plate with the food. Although I'm used to not eating very much, after a few days of Chef's cooking I had to admit that this spread made my mouth water.

When I reached the front of the line, Chef piled my plate with several pounds of food. I was sure I wouldn't be able to finish it all, but I took it anyway. After all, it's not every day that you get to eat food that isn't completely horrible–at least, not around here.

Suddenly, the doors flew open and a young adult walked in. He was black and muscular with bleached white hair, wearing a Chargers jersey, a lightning-bolt necklace, and an insufferable smirk.

"Sha-zam! Lightning is back, y'all!" he declared.

Great. Today's challenge giver. I'm not expecting much from this guy. He looks like a tool.

"Yo, Chef, load me up!" Lightning called across the room.

"Do it yourself," Chef shot back. "I'm going on break."

"Sha-whatever," Lightning muttered. "Okay, peeps, listen up. I know none of you are as amazing as sha-Lightning, but today you're going to play the greatest game ever: sha-football!"

We all stared at him blankly.

"Sha-football!" Lightning repeated. "The field's set up, the balls are inflated, and I'm going to be the referee! Game starts at 1:25, because that's when my dad's team always played. See you there!" He kissed his biceps and left.

"Well, great," Steve said. "What are we going to do? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the most athletic."

Chef sighed. "I knew that idiot would forget to tell you guys everything. There are some footballs around back and you both have your own practice spaces. I'll take you to them after breakfast."

* * *

We followed Chef as he led us into the woods and into a large clearing. He stopped there.

"Formulas! This is your practice space!" he instructed. "Do whatever. Just remember, it's five-on-five, so everyone has to have a position."

Chef kept moving. It took us about five minutes to find our clearing.

"You know the drill, Reboots," he said. "Figure out what you're doing. I'll get you at noon so you can do the locker room things." He walked away, shaking his head. "Somebody had better get hit _hard_ if I'm going to all this trouble."

"Okay, does anybody know how to play?" Marlowe asked. "Because this really isn't my forte. I'm a musician, not a jock."

"I'm out of my depth too," Steve said.

"Well, it's a good thing you have me on our team," Dale said. "I was waterboy on my high school football team."

I smirked. "Step aside, waterboy. If you need a master of strategy, look no further than me."

"You?" Dale scoffed. "Please."

"Yeah, no offense, but I'm gonna side with the waterboy on this one," Steve said.

"Oh really?" I asked. I picked up one of the footballs Chef left us. "Go deep."

Steve looked nervous. "Um, well–"

"GO!" I barked.

Steve jogged away from me. I looked at him, and then hurled the football at him with all of my strength. Steve barely had time to turn around before the ball lodged itself in his stomach and knocked him four yards downfield. Steve got up wheezing.

"Objection–withdrawn," he choked out.

"Good," I said. "Now that that's settled, how about we work on figuring out what everybody's good at before lining up some strategies."

* * *

I spent the next hour finding out what people could do. Despite not being very fast or very strong, Steve had good hands. Ruby was fast as well and had pretty good hands. I penciled them in as the receivers. Marlowe, meanwhile, wasn't very good at catching the ball, but she was fast and shifty, so I figured she'd make a decent running back. Dale couldn't really do anything, so I lined him up at center and had him work on snapping me the ball. Once he had that down, I started working on finding out how everyone did in pass coverage. Steve was surprisingly good at reading me and getting in the way, but he easily got beat no matter who was lined up against him whenever he was asked to play close to them. Ruby wasn't good at figuring out what was going to happen, but was fast enough to catch up. And Marlowe was good at keeping pace until somebody cut on her. I wasn't too pleased with this, but when I sent Dale out in coverage he managed to make them look like All-Pros, so I decided that they'd be the secondary.

I gathered everyone together. "Okay, I think I've figured out what positions everyone's going to play on offense and defense. Dale, I'm thinking that you and me are going to line up together on the line of scrimmage, but frequently one or both of us will drop to cover while the other one rushes; make it unpredictable."

"So we're both linebackers?" he asked.

"Sure," I said noncommittally.

"I always wanted to be Chuck Howley," Dale said.

"Now, can anyone kick the ball?" I asked.

Ruby stepped forward nervously. "I can, I guess."

I shrugged and held the ball for a field goal attempt. "Okay. Give it a shot."

Ruby ran up and booted the ball. It flew through the air gracefully and landed far away.

"We've got our kicker," I announced with a smile.

* * *

"Okay, who knows what a route tree is?" I asked. Nobody answered. "C'mon, really?"

"Does it matter?" Dale asked. "It sounds pretty frou-frou to me."

"Yeah," Steve added. "Do we really need to know this?"

I groaned. "If you learn your routes, I can call plays in less time and audible at the line. Okay?"

Ruby smiled. "Lay it on us."

I drew a straight line and then added seven arrows pointing off from it. "This is a route tree. Each of these are breaks that can be made. For simplicity's sake, let's assume that the cuts happen five yards downfield. Got it?"

"I guess," Dale said. "So?"

"So, each of these are going to be a separate route, numbered from one to seven," I said. "If I call out that number, it means that's the route to run."

"That makes sense," Ruby said. "So if it's four run straight, if it's six run right, if it's one turn around and to the left?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "And let me just add one more route."

I drew a diagonal line from the starting point. "That's a slant. Call it eight. That means you run towards the middle of the field on a diagonal."

Steve nodded. "I think I can remember this."

"Good," I said. "If I want to audible, I'll choose a number in the huddle; if I bark out numbers, whichever one comes up sixth if I chose six or first if I chose one, that's the route. That should keep them from catching on."

* * *

We spent the next two hours working on routes, plays, and formations. Eventually, though, Chef showed up and dragged us back to camp, where a football field had magically sprouted. He pointed towards a tent at the end of one of the end zones.

"That's your locker room," he said. "Go ahead and get dressed, then wait in there until game time."

Fortunately, the tent had separate places to get dressed. I walked into the one marked Aunt Grandma, pulled the curtain shut, and opened the locker. A red and black uniform waited there for me, complete with pads and pants and a helmet. The uniform had the number 2 on it.

 _the spinal cord and the brain serve as the main conduits of the central nervous system_

 _"yes priscilla you went to the state finals but you didn't win"_

 _if the spinal cord is severed paralysis is often the most optimistic outcome_

 _"i honestly don't think you're at all intelligent"_

 _death is likely to occur if the body is moved without plenty of support to the head, neck, and spine areas_

 _"you are a disappointment to this family"_

 _spinal injuries are some of the most dangerous injuries that can be experienced_

I shook my head and quickly got into the uniform. I then walked out, where everyone else was waiting.

"Is everyone prepared?" I asked.

"Yeah," Dale said. His number was 52.

"I am," Marlowe agreed. She wore 9.

"Not really," Steve said. His number was 33.

"I guess," Ruby said. She had been assigned the number 85.

"Okay," I said. "So, should we–"

"Um, could I make a speech?" Ruby asked.

"Go for it!" Dale quickly said.

"Yeah, pump us up," Marlowe agreed.

 _the human mind is worst at using heuristics when it is put under the stress of strange situations_

"Okay guys," Ruby said, "I know that not all of us are the most talented on the field, but if we work together, we can beat them. Remember, there is no force stronger or more powerful than friendship and teamwork. I think of all of you as my friends. Now let's go out there and work together as a team!"

Everyone cheered.

"Okay, so when do we go out there?" Marlowe asked after a few minutes.

I checked the clock. "It'll be about another hour."

* * *

Chef entered the tent. "Okay guys, two minutes until it's time to go out. You all ready?"

"We are," I said.

Chef nodded. "Okay. Lightning will be your referee. You'd better select a captain to call the coin toss."

Chef turned and exited the tent. I smiled.

"Okay, what should I call?" Marlowe asked.

"What?" Dale and I said simultaneously. " _I'm_ the captain!"

"No you're not!" I said angrily. "I am!"

"Um, who here has actual football experience?" Dale asked smugly.

 _ten pounds of torque applied to a human ear is enough to tear it away from the skull_

"Actually, if it's all the same to you, I think Aunt Grandma should call the toss," Steve said. "She is our quarterback after all."

"And she did come up with most of the strategies," Ruby added.

Dale huffed. "Fine. She can call the coin toss."

"WAWANAKWA!" Chef announced loudly. "PLEASE WELCOME, IN BLUE AND WHITE, THE PREDICTABLE FORMULAS!"

I turned to my team. "Alright, guys, it's just about our turn."

"AND NOW, IN RED AND BLACK, THE OVERTHOUGHT REBOOTS!" Chef announced.

I ran out of the tent, followed by the rest of my team. I grinned as I looked across the field towards the opposing team.

"NOW, WILL BOTH TEAMS PLEASE SEND THEIR CAPTAINS TO MIDFIELD FOR THE COIN TOSS?" Chef requested.

I walked calmly towards midfield. Snidely approached from the other side, wearing number 33.

"Snidely, sha-call it in the air!" Lightning said proudly, holding a coin in his hand. "Either–" he looked closely "–Chris's head? That's lame. But at least the other side is–" he flipped it over "–Chef's head? Aw, what? Sha-lame! Sha-Lightning should be on this coin!"

Lightning flipped the coin.

"Lightning!" Snidely quickly called.

Lightning caught the coin. "Actually, it was Chef. But you get to choose."

 _third-degree burns go below the epidermis into the flesh itself, scarring and searing it and often causing major damage to muscles and veins in the affected area_

"WHAT?" I asked, enraged.

"What?" Lightning asked, surprised. "Everyone knows sha-Lightning never loses."

"We chose to defer to the second half," Snidely said, enunciating clearly.

Lightning nodded. "The Overthought Reboots will receive first. Where do you want to defend?"

Not caring, I pointed toward the end we came from.

"Let's go!" Lightning said cheerfully.

* * *

The ball sat on the tee. I stared at it as Lightning blew the whistle. As soon as he did, Nazz ran up to the ball and booted it downfield towards us.

The game was underway.

* * *

The ball flew over my head. I backed up while looking behind me. The ball bounced at about the forty and was scooped up by Dale behind the forty. I ran in front of him and threw a block on Numbuh Two.

The whistle blew, and I looked behind me to see that Dale had run out of bounds at midfield.

 _elevators are typically rated to hold eleven times their listed maximum weight in order to ensure safety_

We huddled.

"Okay, guys, pistol formation, one receiver left, one right, pitch right. Ready? Break!" I said.

We left the huddle and got into position.

"Five! Twenty-two! Seventy-one! Three! Fifteen! Hike!" I barked.

Dale snapped the ball and I pitched it to Marlowe. Marlowe made it three yards before running straight into Snidely.

We huddled again while Lightning set the ball.

"Shotgun, back left, receivers right. Steve, you run a one, Ruby, you run a seven, Marlowe blocks. Audible on seven. Got it?" I asked.

Everyone nodded and we broke the huddle.

"Eighteen! Fifteen! Eighty-three! Ninety! Hike!" I barked.

Dale snapped the ball. Three players rushed, leaving Snidely and Nazz in coverage. When Steve turned around, Nazz was past him, and I drilled a pass into Steve's hands. Steve caught it and fell backwards for the first down.

"Singleback, receivers tight against the center, audible at line on four," I said. "Marlowe, you'll get a play fake and then turn right in case I need to do a dumpoff. Let's go!"

We broke the huddle and came up to the line. I surveyed the defense. Snidely and Nazz were lined up directly on Ruby and Steve, while Ingrid and Boris were back in coverage.

"Seventeen! Sixty-five! Twenty-five! Thirty-four! Twelve! Hike!" I barked.

I took the ball and wheeled around to fake it to Marlowe. As soon as I finished the fake I turned around and was met by Numbuh Two, who tried to pull me down. I broke free from the tackle and noticed Ruby streaking downfield. I heaved the ball towards her and watched as it fell right through her hands.

 _restricting the air supply can lead to permanent brain damage that is not discovered until long after the fact_

Ruby made her way back to the huddle sheepishly. "Sorry. I should've caught that."

I faked a smile. "It's fine, it's fine. Shotgun, receivers split to each side, handoff. Audible on five. Let's go."

We got set at the line. I looked and noticed that Boris and Numbuh Two were both looking to rush me.

"Fifteen! Seventeen! Fifteen! Seventeen! Forty-four! Forty-four! Forty-four! Forty-six!" I barked.

Dale snapped the ball. I faded back as Boris ran towards me, dropped to the left, and then chucked the ball into the air. It hung there for several seconds before it started coming down and landed directly in Steve's arms as he made a leaping grab over Snidely in the front of the end zone.

Lightning blew his whistle. "Touchdown, Reboots!"

Everyone else ran downfield to mob Steve. I just grinned and got ready to hold for Ruby's extra point. When the celebration had finished, we got set, and Ruby booted the ball straight down the middle of the uprights.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 0**

* * *

Ruby ran up to the ball and sent it sailing downfield. It was caught by Nazz at the five. She ran it out past the twenty, but not much farther, as I proceeded to absolutely flatten her with a crushing hit.

Nazz got up dazed but walked over to the huddle. We huddled as well.

"Okay," I said. "Steve, I want you to cover the left side. Marlowe, cover the right. Ruby, you hang back and provide extra support if one of them gets past our corners. That's our strategy this drive, got it?"

"Got it," Marlowe said. Ruby nodded.

"So what do I do?" Dale asked.

"Either help in coverage or rush," I said. "I'll tell you what to do before each play."

The Formulas broke the huddle, and we lined up. They came out with Numbuh Two, Snidely, and Nazz on the line. Ingrid took her position behind Numbuh Two, and I nodded to Dale to signal we should both rush. Numbuh Two snapped the ball to Ingrid, and she wheeled around and handed it off to Boris. I plunged into the line, but Snidely managed to lay a decent block on me, and I saw Boris take off towards the right side of the field, evading both Dale, who had inexplicably hung back, and Marlowe, who wasn't able to handle his cutback. Ruby threw herself at him, and barely managed to wrap him up. Although she didn't bring him down, this allowed Marlowe and Steve to catch up and dogpile on him.

Lightning blew the whistle, and the ball was marked at the 42. As the Formulas huddled up again, I turned to Dale.

"Why didn't you rush?" I demanded.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!" Dale defended himself.

I pursed my lips. "Fine." I leaned in and whispered to him. "Rush this time."

The Formulas broke the huddle, and we lined up across from each other. The ball was snapped, and Nazz rushed off the line. I stunted between Nazz and Snidely and read Ingrid's play fake to Boris. I charged at her, and slammed into her full force just as she released the ball.

Getting up, I spotted Numbuh Two lying on the ground six yards downfield with the ball in his hands. I scowled and made my way back to my team.

"Dale, you rush," I told him.

This time they ran a run play to my side of the field. I grabbed onto Boris before he could get far and held him in place. Steve was the first one to arrive, and he brought Boris down.

Third and one. I told Dale to cover and I'd rush. This time, they rushed up the middle, and Boris managed to break free for seven yards.

 _a broken knee can almost completely incapacitate a human being_

I told Dale we'd both rush. This time, Snidely blocked me, and Boris managed to chop block Dale as Ingrid faded left and hurled a pass about twenty yards downfield that Nazz easily snagged.

 _blood pressure was first measured by killing a horse_

First down for them from the eighteen.

"Okay, guys, tighten up," I said. "Dale, cover Boris. I'll rush. Got it?"

Dale nodded. We lined up, everybody close to the receivers. Ingrid took the snap and barely made it three steps before I hurled Snidely out of the way and threw myself on top of her for a sack.

Ingrid got up shaking her head. I grinned and jogged back to the others on my team.

"Same play," I told them. "I think we're on to something."

This time the Formulas came out in shotgun with nobody in the backfield. Boris lined up on the right side of the field, and Dale followed him. Ingrid grinned, and as soon as the ball was snapped she set her feet and threw the ball to Nazz, who blew past Steve and caught the ball just as Ruby launched herself at her and brought her down.

 _sleeping people's rooms often suffer from an excess of carbon dioxide, with levels of carbon dioxide often reaching eight to ten times those of the immediate outdoor world_

Great. Another third and one.

"Cover," I told Dale. "I'll take Boris, you help with Nazz."

We lined up. The Formulas were in shotgun formation. Ingrid barked out the snap count, took the ball, and handed it to Boris. I lunged at him–

And missed completely as he cut back the other way. I turned to look and saw him run straight down the middle of the field, untouched all the way into the end zone.

 _the boot was a medieval torture device built for the express purpose of destroying the lower leg of the victim in question. although construction of boots varied in different eras and places, the constant was that these devices were intended to permanently ruin the victim's lower leg in order to force a confession_

I groaned. The Formulas hustled to the line, and Lightning set the ball up for a two-point try. The ball was snapped, and Ingrid threw a dart to Nazz on a slant route.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 8**

* * *

Nazz sent a wobbling kick downfield. Without looking to see who would cover the kick, I ran forward and absolutely pancaked Nazz. Seconds later, the whistle blew.

"Unnecessary roughness, on #2 of the receiving team," Lightning announced. "The fifteen yard penalty will be assessed at the end of the kick, and the ball will be placed at the 25. First down."

I entered the huddle.

"Good choice, Aunt Grandma," Steve said sarcastically.

"Shut it," I said. "Shotgun, split receivers, handoff to the right. Let's go."

We broke the huddle. I eyed the defense and yelled "Hike!" They were caught off by the quick snap, and Marlowe was able to pick up five yards before being brought down by Nazz and Boris.

"Good play," I said in the huddle. "Singleback, tight formation, QB draw. Let's go."

We marched up to the line. Once again, I yelled "Hike!" but they were ready for it this time, and I was only able to pick up two yards. We huddled again.

"Okay, pistol formation, two receivers next to each other on the right," I said. "It's a run left if they leave that side open; if not, run right. Break!"

We broke the huddle and came up to the line. I eyed up the defense. Snidely, Ingrid, and Nazz were all covering the right side. Only Ingrid was on the left.

"Fifteen! Thirty-two! Seventy! Thirteen! Sixty-five! Hike!" I yelled. I turned to the left and handed the ball to Marlowe. She barely managed to make it past the line of scrimmage before she was hit by Boris, but she fell forward for the first down.

We huddled again. "I want to run the next few plays out of shotgun, split receivers. If I yell eighteen at any point, it means I want a run. Two eighteens mean it's going to the right; one, to the left, three to the middle. Fifth one is the call for the next two plays. After that it'll be the first one for a play, and then we huddle. Let's go hurry-up."

We broke the huddle and got lined up.

"Seventeen! Thirty! Sixty-two! Ninety-five! Twenty-six! Forty-three! Hike!" I barked. Steve and Ruby ran out seven yards and cut towards the sidelines. I hurled the ball at Steve, and he put up his hands and caught it, but wasn't able to stop his momentum and stumbled out of bounds.

Lightning got the ball set quickly. "Eighty! Twenty! Eighty-two! Twenty-eight! Seventeen! Seventy-one! Hike!" I barked. Steve and Ruby ran their curl routes, and I threw the ball to Ruby. She caught it and was immediately tackled by Nazz at the first-down line. We moved up to the line quickly, and I barked out signals again. "Eighteen! Twenty-five! Eighteen! Twenty-five! Eighteen! Twenty-five! Twenty-five! Twenty-five! Hike!"

Marlowe took the ball and ran for twelve yards before being gang-tackled by Snidely, Nazz, and Ingrid. We huddled.

"Okay, guys, let's go pass from shotgun, singleback run right, shotgun run left," I said. "Split receivers on all of them. Run a sixty-eight. Got it?"

Everyone nodded.

"Let's go," I said.

We broke the huddle and came up to the line. As soon as the ball was snapped, I threw it towards Ruby, but it was knocked down by Nazz before Ruby could even touch it. We quickly got back into position, and I handed it to Marlowe for three yards. I nodded at everybody, we got set, and Marlowe ran left for six yards before being brought down by Ingrid.

Fourth and one. We huddled.

"Run play?" I asked.

Marlowe looked worried. "I'm not sure I can make it."

I nodded. "QB draw on a play fake, then. Shotgun, receivers left, Marlowe on my right. Ignore audibles. Break!"

We exited the huddle and came up to the line. Snidely and Ingrid lined up on the receivers, while Boris took a position directly opposite Marlowe and Numbuh Two lined up on top of Dale. Nazz was stranded on the right side, looking like she'd rush.

"Twenty-five! Seventeen! Thirty! Thirty-four! Hike!" I barked.

Dale snapped the ball. I faked the handoff to Marlowe and saw Boris get drawn off to the left. I then plunged forward and headed for the first down line only to get knocked off my feet at the line of scrimmage by Nazz. Lightning rushed onto the field, blowing his whistle and signaling that the Formulas had a first down.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 8**

* * *

I looked at the clock on the scoreboard. It said that there were four minutes left in the quarter.

The Formulas came up to the line in an empty shotgun set, and Dale dropped off to cover Boris. I stared down Snidely, who looked at me nervously but snapped the ball to Ingrid. I rushed off the line and knocked him over, but it was too late; Ingrid had already thrown the ball. I turned around and saw Numbuh Two catch it at midfield and get brought down immediately by Steve and Ruby.

We lined up again. This time, Boris was in the backfield. The ball was snapped, and Ingrid handed it to him. I dove at him, but a combination of his cutback and Snidely's block meant that I missed. As I lay on the ground, I saw Dale and Ruby fail to tackle him. He raced downfield and was only stopped by a shoestring tackle made by Marlowe at about the twenty.

Before we could do anything, the Formulas hustled to the line. We barely got back onside before they snapped it, and a quick pass to Nazz got them five yards that turned into fifteen due to our disorientation. The Formulas huddled, and Lightning spotted the ball at the seven. When they came out, they were in singleback with the receivers tight against the center. We lined up close to the line, ready to pounce, and when Ingrid turned and handed the ball off to Boris, almost everyone smothered him.

I was the exception because I saw it was a fake. As soon as I did, I started running back to cover the receivers, but it was too late, as Ingrid lofted the ball towards Nazz and she easily gathered it in.

Touchdown.

They lined up again to go for two. This time, they lined up in shotgun. As soon as the ball was snapped, I backpedaled, and I was able to reach out and knock Ingrid's pass towards Nazz incomplete.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 14**

* * *

Nazz kicked the ball downfield. I backpedaled and looked behind me as it sailed out of bounds. Lightning marked it at the thirty as we huddled.

"Singleback, split set, eighty-one," I said simply. "Let's go."

We broke the huddle and got up to the line. I snapped the ball and saw Steve immediately get open on the slant. I threw the ball to him, and he caught it and turned upfield. He made it a few yards before Nazz slammed into him, jarring the ball loose. It rolled forward, and Ingrid landed on it at the Formulas' 44. Ruby quickly ran up to her and tapped her down.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 14  
End of Quarter 1**

* * *

Snidely grinned at me as he bent over the ball. I scowled, and as soon as the ball was snapped I ran directly at Ingrid.

Who turned to her left and pitched the ball past me to Boris. Boris cut back against Steve and took off, making it all the way inside the fifteen before Marlowe managed to hold on to him. Even then, he managed to bull forward for a few more yards before being dogpiled by Ruby and me.

First and goal from the 9. We lined up against them again. This time, the handoff was to the right, and Boris slipped by everyone and into the end zone. The Formulas quickly came to the line, and we lined up against them again. This time, they attempted a shotgun handoff, and I grabbed Boris and threw him down.

 **Overthought Reboots 7 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

Nazz ran up and kicked the ball. As I watched it sail by, I realized that for once she had made a good kick. Turning back around, I managed to block Numbuh Two, but Nazz slipped past me, and a few seconds later I heard the whistle blow.

The ball was marked at the 27. We hustled down, huddled up, and got to the line. I called out several audibles, settling on a curl and a post. The ball was snapped, and they rushed three. I quickly dumped the ball off to Marlowe, running a checkdown route to the right. Marlowe caught the ball and took off. She would've had a clear path to the end zone had Ruby not blown her block on Nazz, and Marlowe got brought down at our 43. That was still good enough for a first down, and I quickly got everyone to the line and snapped the ball, throwing it to Steve on a curl route. Steve caught the ball and was brought down immediately, bringing up second and six.

We huddled, and I called a run play from pistol. I took the ball and handed it to Marlowe, but she botched the handoff, and I dove on the ball. I was tapped down, bringing up third and ten. We huddled, and I called a pass play from an empty set. However, when we got up to the line, I saw that the defense was in a poor alignment and changed the play to two streaks from the receivers on the outside and a post from Marlowe, in slot position. The ball was snapped, and I hurled it downfield towards Steve. It looked like he would catch it up until Snidely grabbed Steve's facemask and threw him to the ground. The ball sailed several feet over his head, and I prepared myself for fourth down.

"Personal foul!" Lightning said. "Facemask, number 33 of the defense. Fifteen-yard penalty, automatic first down."

"What?" Snidely asked, upset. "What did I do wrong?"

Lightning rolled his eyes. "You're not allowed to grab the facemask. Sha-first!"

Lightning moved the ball to the Formulas' 42, and we huddled again. This time, I called a play-action bootleg with Steve running an in route and Ruby running an out. The ball was snapped, and I faked the handoff and rolled right. Numbuh Two rushed at me, and I tossed the ball over his head to Ruby just as he dove at me. From my position on the ground, I saw Ruby catch the ball and take off downfield, making it fifteen yards before Ingrid managed to force her out of bounds.

First and ten, 25 yard line. We huddled again, and I called a handoff to Marlowe from shotgun. This handoff was stuffed immediately, bringing up second and thirteen. This time, we ran a play from pistol where Steve ran a post, Ruby ran a corner route, and Marlowe ran a shallow out. The Formulas rushed one, and I placed the ball between Ingrid and Snidely where only Steve could get it. He caught the ball at the three and fell forward into the end zone, taking a huge hit as he did so.

We lined up for the extra point, and Ruby sent it sailing straight down the middle of the uprights.

 **Overthought Reboots 14 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

Ruby sent the ball sailing downfield, and we rushed to cover it. Nazz caught it and began running it back, but she was quickly met by Ruby, who caught her and stopped her from getting past the twenty yard line, bringing her down at the nineteen.

When the Formulas came to the line, they came out in shotgun. Dale and I both rushed, and when Snidely committed to me Dale charged at Ingrid, who could only tuck the ball and let him sack her. Dale apologized as he got up, but Ingrid waved him off, and we got ready for the next play. That play was a screen pass to Boris, who took the ball for twenty-four yards and a first down.

Their next play was another handoff, but Dale and Marlowe managed to latch on to Boris and bring him down after just two yards. The Formulas followed this with a pass that was batted down by yours truly at the line of scrimmage. They tried another run, but this one only gained three yards. This brought up fourth and five from our forty-seven with three minutes left in the half.

They came out in singleback with Numbuh Two next to Snidely and Nazz split out wide. I signaled for Ruby and Marlowe to double-cover her, and for Steve to rush with me and Dale. The ball was snapped, and despite Numbuh Two and Snidely blocking me and Dale well, Steve came cleanly into the backfield until Boris threw a cut block, knocking him off his feet. Ingrid lofted the ball towards Nazz, but Ruby and Marlowe managed to get their hands on the pass and knock it down.

First down, us.

 **Overthought Reboots 14 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

For our first play I lined everyone up in a tight singleback formation and called a QB sneak. This managed to pick up four yards and put us on the Formulas' side of the field. This took us to the two-minute warning. After that, I called a quick slant to Ruby which she caught for a gain of eight. I then rushed us to the line and audibled into shotgun, throwing an out route to Steve, who caught it at the sideline but was tackled inbounds. Second and three.

I called a timeout, stopping the clock at a minute and thirty-four seconds. I then sent everyone out in an empty set, giving Marlowe explicit instructions to run a curl, and audibled a post from Steve and an in from Ruby. Ruby got open over the middle, and I threw her the ball. She dropped it, bringing up third down. We came out in an empty set again, but this time I threw to Marlowe, who caught the ball and was tackled immediately afterwards for a gain of four. This was still enough for a first down at the thirty, and I quickly rushed us to the line and audibled into the same play we ran on second down. This time, Ruby caught the ball, and turned upfield for twelve yards. I called a timeout, leaving us with the ball on the eighteen, one timeout, and a minute and three seconds to score.

The play I called in the huddle was also an empty formation. I had Steve run an in, Marlowe run a corner route from the slot position by Ruby, and Ruby run a post. Marlowe broke open when both Boris and Nazz bit on Ruby's post, and I lofted it to her for an easy touchdown.

The extra point sailed through the uprights, and we led by one point with fifty-six seconds left in the half.

 **Overthought Reboots 21 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

Ruby's kick sailed downfield, and it was gathered by Boris in the end zone. He elected to bring it out, but was captured by Ruby at the sixteen and pulled to the ground. The Formulas were left with forty-four seconds to go eighty-four yards.

"Okay, Marlowe," I said in the huddle. "You take Nazz. Steve, you cover Numbuh Two. I'll take Boris. Ruby, shade towards the side with fewer receivers, but play deep. Got it?"

Everyone agreed, and we broke the huddle. As I predicted, the Formulas came out in an empty set, with Boris and Nazz lined up on the right side. I covered Boris as he ran a corner route, but Nazz managed to break free and caught the ball on her in route. She was brought down by Ruby, but not before picking up twenty-two yards.

The Formulas called a timeout with thirty-five seconds left. When they came out, they were in an empty formation again. This time, Boris ran an out route, but I was right on him, and the pass in his direction sailed overhead, out of my reach even though I leapt to intercept it. They followed this up with a pass to Numbuh Two that he caught for ten yards. He was brought down immediately, and the Formulas used their second timeout with twenty-six seconds left.

They came out in an empty set again. This time, they ran go routes, but we covered them well, and Ingrid ended up heaving the ball away. They ran the same play again the next time, but this time Ingrid threw the ball towards Nazz. I managed to slap it down, however, bringing up third down. Once again, they ran streaks–or so I thought until Boris cut towards the middle of the field on a post route. Ingrid threw a picture perfect pass to Boris, but I managed to wrap him up and bring him down at the 23. The Formulas used their last timeout with four seconds left.

Once again, they ran go routes. This time, Numbuh Two beat Steve cleanly, but he had to slow down to try and catch the ball in bounds, and Steve managed to catch up and knock the ball away.

 **Overthought Reboots 21 - Predictable Formulas 20  
End of Quarter 2**

* * *

We gathered in our tent for halftime. Dale collapsed onto one of the benches.

"Wow," he panted. "I was–not ready for today."

I looked at him curiously. "Do you think you'll do okay in the second half?"

Dale just panted and didn't reply. Ruby and Steve headed off to use the bathrooms. I sat down on one of the benches and began to think about the game. Thus far, the offense had been clicking, especially at the end of the half, when I decided to put the team on my back. Defensively, though, we didn't seem very stout, especially on that last drive where the Formulas came very close to scoring in under a minute. We needed to rethink our defensive strategy.

Once everybody had come back into the main area, I decided to make my move.

"Okay, I think we did pretty well," I said. "I want to change the defense, though. Marlowe, stay on Nazz. Steve, stay on Numbuh Two. Ruby, keep playing safety. But Dale, I want us to do a zone rush. If Boris comes to your side, cover him unless he's blocking. If he comes to my side, I'll cover him. I think that should help. Now let's go win this."

* * *

Ruby ran up and kicked the ball through the back of the end zone. Lightning marked the ball at the 20 yard line.

"Wait, isn't the ball on the twenty-five now?" Dale asked.

Lightning sniffed. "Please. Pops always played with the ball on the twenty, so sha-Lightning is gonna follow those rules!"

The Reboots came out in shotgun with Nazz tight against the center. I shifted so that I was in between her and Snidely, and Dale and Marlowe took the outside of the line. The ball was snapped, and I plunged through the line towards Ingrid. Ingrid quickly handed the ball off to Boris, but I dove at him and took him down for a loss of three.

The Reboots came out in an empty set the next time. Dale rushed over to cover Boris, and as soon as the ball was snapped I shoved Snidely onto his butt and ran at Ingrid. She managed to get the pass away, but it clanged off of Boris's hands and fell incomplete, bringing up third down. There, they went with another empty set, this time with all three receivers to the right. Dale ran over to cover, and as soon as the ball was snapped Ingrid threw a screen to Nazz. Nazz managed to pick up some yardage but was brought down at the 27, short of the first down marker.

I was unsure what they were going to do, even when they came out in a punting formation. Nazz caught the long snap and punted it downfield, and it landed around midfield and rolled forward before Snidely dove on it, giving us the ball at our own 47.

 **Overthought Reboots 21 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

For our first play, I sent us out in pistol formation, with both Ruby and Steve on the right side of the formation. The Formulas lined up close to the line, and I audibled to a slant from Steve and a streak from Ruby. As soon as the ball was snapped, Snidely, Boris, and Nazz bore down on me. Flushed from the pocket, I scrambled backwards and to the right and spotted Ruby wide open downfield. I flung the ball, and it flew through the air. Although it wasn't the most accurate pass I've ever thrown, Ruby adjusted to the ball's flight and caught it in stride at the five and ran it in for a touchdown.

We lined up for the extra point, and Ruby slipped it inside the right upright.

 **Overthought Reboots 28 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

Ruby sent the ball arcing through the air, and Boris caught it inside the 10–or at least, he tried to. The ball bounced off his helmet, and as he ran around trying to find the ball, Nazz raced back and dove on the ball. Before she could get up, Ruby ran over and tapped her down at the 7.

The Formulas came out in shotgun with two receivers to the left. Ingrid took the snap and handed it to Boris on the delayed handoff. Boris took off, getting by me and Dale, but Marlowe managed to get her hands on him and hold on as he dragged her to the 19 but no further. On their next play, the Formulas came out in singleback, and this time it was a left-side pitch to Boris. Boris somehow spun around me, and he raced past Steve but got tackled by Ruby at the 30.

They came out in shotgun, and we rushed. Ingrid dumped it off to Boris, but Dale managed to get his hand on the ball and knock it down. They came out in shotgun again on the next play and handed off to Boris, but we stuffed him at the line. Facing third and ten, they sent an empty set, but I covered Boris solidly and Ingrid ended up having to throw the ball away after Snidely failed to block Dale.

The Formulas punted, and the ball landed on our side and bounced backwards, getting tapped dead by Nazz at our 48.

 **Overthought Reboots 28 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

For our first play we came out in pistol. I handed the ball off to Marlowe, but she got stuffed behind the line for a loss of three. I sent us out in pistol again, and completed a pass on an in route to Steve for seven yards. This brought up third and six, and we came out in singleback, where I faked a handoff to Marlowe and took off. This caught the defense flat-footed, and I managed to gain twenty yards before putting my shoulder down and slamming into Ingrid. Although Ingrid was thrown by the blow, she managed to hang on to me, and I was gang-tackled at the twenty-one.

Once again, I chose to hand off to Marlowe, this time from shotgun. This handoff worked to gain three yards, and on the next play I pitched it to Marlowe, who ran for eleven yards before being brought down by Nazz and Ingrid. Facing first and goal, I audibled from shotgun to send Ruby on a slant. I slung the ball at her, and although she bobbled the throw she managed to haul it in as she crossed the goal line.

We set up for the extra point, and Ruby sent it sailing through the uprights.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

Ruby sent the ball sailing downfield again. It sailed out the back of the end zone, and Lightning set the ball at the 20.

The Formulas came out in shotgun. Dale and I both rushed when Boris was kept back to block, but Ingrid aired the ball out just before I could sack her, and it was caught forty yards downfield by Nazz, who outjumped Marlowe for the ball.

Lightning blew his whistle, and we barely had to move at all as Lightning announced the end of the third quarter and set the ball on the 38.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 20  
** **End of Quarter 3**

* * *

The Formulas came out in singleback with everybody tight against the center. The play was a pitch to Boris, and he managed to evade Dale and Marlowe as he ran to the right. I managed to get ahold of him, however, and although he churned forward I was able to stop him at the 27, where Ruby and Steve piled onto him. It was enough for a first down, though, and I felt worried as we lined up for the next play.

As soon as the ball was snapped, I rushed. Ingrid was taken totally by surprise as she faked the handoff to Boris, and I buried her six yards behind the line. The Formulas huddled, and when they came out again, they were in singleback. Ingrid handed the ball to Boris, but Dale and I grabbed him and dragged him down for a gain of one. Their next play was a pass, and Nazz hauled it in but got brought down by Marlowe and Ruby at the 22.

Fourth and five. The Formulas lined up to go for it in singleback, and I quickly swapped spots on the line with Dale. As soon as the ball was snapped, I rushed, and although Snidely got me with a coffee table block, Dale rushed into the backfield and managed to knock down Ingrid's pass.

First down, us.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

We lined up in shotgun, and I threw a quick pass to Ruby that she dropped. I followed this up with a post route to Steve that he caught for fifteen yards, moving us up to the 37. I got us to the line quickly and audibled into a pair of streaks. Ruby got past the defense, and I threw it deep on a perfect pass that hit Ruby in the hands in the end zone. Unfortunately, she couldn't hold onto it. The next thing I tried was a screen pass to Marlowe that she dropped as well, bringing up third and ten. For that play, I put us into an empty set. Ruby broke free on an out route, but Nazz caught up to her just as the pass reached her and swatted the ball away.

We punted, and the ball rolled to a stop at the Formulas' 29.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 20**

* * *

The Formulas came out in shotgun with Numbuh Two standing next to Snidely. I signaled for Dale to rush, and as soon as the ball was snapped we took off for the backfield. Boris managed to shake free from us, however, and as I got up I saw him spin away from Marlowe, juke past Ruby, and take off down the rest of the field. None of us could catch him as Boris ran into the end zone, cutting our lead to nine points.

The Predictable Formulas wasted no time in getting down to attempt a two-point conversion. They lined up in the same formation, and Dale and I rushed again. However, after Numbuh Two pushed me away on a block, he slipped into the end zone and Ingrid tossed him an easy-to-catch pass for the two-point conversion.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 28**

* * *

Nazz ran up to the ball and sent it downfield, where it landed out of bounds. We set up at the forty, and I set us up in singleback and handed off to Marlowe on the first play. She picked up seven yards, and on the very next play I called a QB sneak from a tight singleback formation. This only picked up a yard when Numbuh Two and Boris managed to knock me down before I had gained much ground, but I chose to run the ball again, handing it off to Marlowe. Marlowe got buried at the line, and we chose to punt. Ruby boomed a kick downfield, and it sailed out of bounds at the 2 yard line.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 28**

* * *

Ten minutes remained on the clock as the Predictable Formulas came up to the line in singleback, with Numbuh Two once again standing next to Snidely on the line. Ingrid took the snap, and Numbuh Two ran forward off the line to catch a pass. I dropped back to cover him, but Snidely managed to block Dale, and Ingrid dumped it off to Boris. He was smothered after a gain of only five by Marlowe, though, bringing up second and five. They came out in singleback again, with both Numbuh Two and Nazz on the left side of the field. This time, it was a toss to the right, and I managed to dive at Boris and trip him up, keeping him from gaining more than two yards. On third down, they came out in singleback again. This time, Nazz was tight on the right of Snidely, while Numbuh Two was split out wide. As soon as the ball was snapped, Nazz and Snidely plunged forward, pushing us back, and Boris managed to pick up the three yards necessary for a first down before being dropped by me and Dale.

They came out in singleback again, with Nazz split to the left and Numbuh Two to the right. Ingrid took the snap and handed it to Boris, who managed to slip past me; luckily, Ruby ran towards the line and met him head on, stopping him for a gain of three. They came out in singleback once again on the next play, with Nazz split out wide to the right and Numbuh Two close on the line. This time, it was a play-action pass, and although I read it correctly, Numbuh Two managed to push me past Ingrid. Seeing a hole, Ingrid took off and ran for eleven yards, diving to the 26 before Marlowe could tackle her. Instead, Marlowe tapped her down, and Ingrid quickly got up and huddled her team. When they came out of the huddle, they were once again in singleback, but this time Numbuh Two was tight to the right. He took off from the line as Ingrid faked a handoff to Boris, but Boris managed to get me with a cut block, and Ingrid feathered the ball downfield to Numbuh Two, who made a leaping catch in front of Ruby at the Formulas' 48.

Fuck.

They came out in singleback again, this time with the receivers split wide to each side. Ingrid didn't fake a handoff this time, and Boris managed to block me long enough for Ingrid to get off a bullet pass to Nazz on the right sideline for a first down at our 40.

Fuck.

Singleback again, and again Boris tried to block me. He missed, though, and as I threw myself at Ingrid she let the ball fly. Behind me, I heard the whistle blow, and Lightning announce that the pass had sailed incomplete, bringing up second down. I pushed myself up and grinned as I got back to the line of scrimmage. If I was lucky, that hit would take something out of Ingrid, and she'd be inaccurate from now on.

Once again, they came out in singleback. This time, Snidely focused on me, leaving Dale to Boris. Boris was able to occupy dale, but Snidely couldn't stop me for long, as I got past him and managed to bring down Ingrid before she could throw a pass. The sack brought up third and 18, and as I got up I smiled a sinister grin. A stop was in the works; I could just feel it.

The Formulas came out in an empty shotgun set for their third down play, and the snap was low. I charged at Snidely, but he managed to hold me off as Ingrid reset her feet and then hurled the ball twenty yards downfield to Numbuh Two, who managed to shake free from Steve and catch it right before Ruby brought him down.

FUCK.

The Formulas hustled up to the line, this time in singleback, and Ingrid faded back, looked Nazz's way, and threw the ball out of bounds. On their next play, they came out in shotgun, and Snidely tried to block me–tried being the operative word. I easily got past him, and Dale and I both bore down on Ingrid–

As she flipped the ball to Boris on the screen, who ran behind Snidely and picked up half the yardage needed, getting them to the 14.

Fuck!

The Formulas came to the line quickly, this time in an empty shotgun set. Dale and I took off as soon as the ball was snapped, but Ingrid lofted a floater to Nazz, who leaped up and caught it over Marlowe in the front of the end zone.

FUCK!

Lightning blew his whistle and signaled that Nazz hadn't caught the ball in bounds. Nazz rolled her eyes, but tossed the ball to him and jogged back to the huddle. When the Formulas came out, they were in an empty set again. Ingrid took the ball, and I rushed her while Snidely looked to block Dale, who had dropped back to cover Boris. Ingrid saw me coming, and her eyes widened, but she tucked the ball and ran in the other direction. I gave chase, but Ingrid took off and made it to the sidelines, sliding out of bounds at the five. Third and one.

The Formulas came out in shotgun. Boris came out of the backfield to my side, so I shaded him as he ran an out pattern–

And could only watch as the ball sailed past behind me and into the hands of Numbuh Two, who caught it in the end zone, where he was wide open between Steve and Ruby.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

The Formulas hustled up to the line in an empty shotgun set. Snidely snapped the ball, and as soon as the ball was in her hands, Ingrid slung it to Nazz, who easily caught it for the two-point conversion.

Fuck.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 36**

* * *

Okay, Priscilla. Just under five minutes to play, but it's okay. Your team is only down a point. We're getting the ball. You can lead a scoring drive. You can show everyone how the game is played, the Aunt Grandma way. You just have to OH SHIT ONSIDE KICK!

FUCK

FUCK

SHIT

DAMMIT SNIDELY'S PAST ME

SHIT HE'S GOING TO GET THE BALL

FUCK

SHIT

FUCK

FUCK

DAMMIT

FUCK

SHIT

DAMMIT

FUCK!

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 36**

* * *

I huddled everybody up.

"Okay. Steve, you're now on the line, taking my assignment," I said.

"But–" Steve tried to object.

"No," I said. "Marlowe, you're now on Numbuh Two. I'm taking Nazz. We are _not_ going to screw up again."

Everybody looked at me askance but went to do as they were told. The Formulas came out in shotgun, and I hustled over to cover Nazz. Ingrid looked surprised to see the change of plan, but she took the snap and threw a quick slant pass to Numbuh Two, who made it eight yards before being brought down by Ruby and Marlowe. They took their time getting up to the line, but came out in shotgun. It was a quick handoff to Boris, who took the ball for six yards before being brought down by Ruby. The Formulas then ran up to the line and snapped the ball quickly, with Ingrid throwing an in route to Nazz. Although I couldn't stop her from catching the ball, I brought her down immediately, keeping her from gaining more than five yards.

The Formulas took their time on second and five, coming out in a tight singleback formation. This time, it was a pitch to the left, and Boris picked up six yards before being brought down. I looked at the clock and grew nervous as it ticked under three minutes. The Formulas came out in shotgun, with both receivers on the right. Marlowe hustled over to cover Numbuh Two, and Ruby shaded towards us.

The ball was snapped, and Ingrid handed it off to Boris, who took off for the left side of the field. He slipped past Steve and seemed to have a clear path to the end zone until Ruby somehow managed to come over and pull him down at the ten-yard line through sheer force of will.

Shit.

I huddled everyone again.

"I'm taking back my position," I told them. "Steve, you're on Numbuh Two again. Marlowe, you're on Ruby."

Nobody argued with me as the clock ticked down to the two-minute warning.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 36**

* * *

Ingrid took the snap and faked a handoff to Boris. Boris came up and tried to block me but seemed to whiff completely–until he turned left and I realized he was running a route. I tried to turn back and cover him, but it was too late; Ingrid tossed the ball to him, and Boris took off for the end zone, muscling his way in for a touchdown even though Steve and Ruby both managed to grab him.

Okay. This is the ball game. If they get two points, they take a two-score lead, it's over. We need to stop them here.

We need to stop them here.

We need to stop them here.

We need to stop them here.

We need to stop them here.

They came out in singleback. As soon as the ball was snapped, I ran directly at Ingrid, who abandoned the designed handoff and scooted away from me to the right. I blasted her just as she released the ball–

 _put a bullet in his back and break the spinal column_

 _they dance you know_

 _they dance when the nervous system shatters_

 _the jig of death_

 _it is hilarious to watch them dance the jig of death_

 _no rhythm just panic as the body fails with no chance of repair_

Marlowe reached out and knocked the ball away from Nazz. It bounced up in the air, and Ruby ran up and caught it. She began running it back, and I thought she might actually manage to put two points on the board for us until Boris caught her and slapped the ball out of her arms. Numbuh Two caught up to the ball first and fell on it, ending the play.

We have a chance.

We have a chance.

We have a chance.

We have a chance.

Breathe.

Breathe.

We have a chance.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 42**

* * *

Nazz sent the ball sailing high in the air. As I backed up to block for the return, I found myself hoping that Ruby might manage to break a big return.

She caught the ball at the 25 and ran forward. I snapped my vision forward and threw a block on Nazz, knocking her into Boris. Ingrid ran over to cover the opened hole, and managed to evade my block. She grabbed Ruby and dragged her down at the 41.

I looked up at the clock. 1:49. One hundred and nine seconds to go fifty-nine yards.

Alright, Priscilla. Time to get it done.

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 42**

* * *

"Alright guys," I told them in the huddle. "This is our last chance. We have all three timeouts and almost two minutes. Now I'm going to need us all to be on the same page here. Are you with me?"

Nobody responded until Dale nodded.

"Sure, why not," he said. "Let's do this."

Marlowe nodded. "I'm in."

"Behind you all the way," Ruby agreed.

"You can count on me," Steve finally said.

"Good," I said. "Here's the formation: shotgun, receivers split to each side. I'll call the play at the line. It'll be the fifth number I call. Marlowe, you're going to be in the backfield with me. Assume you're going to block unless I tell you a route to run. If I send you out of the backfield, I'll tell you what route to run before hand. Everybody clear?"

Ruby nodded. "Crystal."

Marlowe, Steve, and Dale nodded too.

I nodded at them. "Let's go out there and win this game."

 **Overthought Reboots 35 - Predictable Formulas 42**

* * *

We lined up in the arrangement I had designed. Nazz covered Ruby, Snidely covered Steve, and Numbuh Two stood across from Marlowe. Boris and Dale faced off against each other, and through his facemask I saw Boris smile cruelly. Ingrid was twenty yards off the line, obviously there to stop any big plays from happening.

Well, if we're not going to get any big plays, we might as well get little plays.

"Seventeen! Eleven! Forty-two! Seventeen! Twenty-six! Hike!" I called. Steve and Marlowe took off on their out routes, and Steve managed to get a step on Snidely. I hurled the ball to Steve, and it slammed into his hands a couple of steps from the sideline. Steve stepped out of bounds for five yards.

Second and five, 1:39 left. "Eleven! Nineteen! Ninety-three! Fifty! Fifty-eight! Seventy! Seventy-nine! Ninety-three! Hike!"

Ruby broke free from Nazz on the slant route and I threw it to her quickly. Ruby was unable to haul it in, however, and the pass fell incomplete off of her hands.

Third and five. 1:35. I sent Marlowe to the right side with instructs to run an in route, and then called the play.

"Seventy-five! Ninety-three! Twelve! Nine! Thirteen! Eleven! Seventy! Twelve! Hike!"

Ruby took off on her post route, and while she wasn't able to break free from Nazz, she did draw Ingrid away and made Numbuh Two hesitate just as Marlowe cut inside. I hurled the ball to her, and Marlowe caught the ball and fell forward for eight yards and a first down.

As the clock ran down, I assembled everyone at the line and called the play. "Ninety-three! Four! Fifteen! Nineteen! Eighty-one! Seventy-one! Ninety-three! Hike!"

Dale snapped the ball to me, and I quickly threw it to Ruby on the comeback. She caught it and was brought down immediately for a gain of four.

I called timeout and took a deep breath. There were fifty-three seconds left on the clock and we had the ball 42 yards from the end zone with two timeouts. Okay, Priscilla, it's time to get a big play. Little plays won't necessarily make it.

I assembled my team. "We need a big play. Call will come on the twos if I'm going to audible, and we'll return to the normal set after this, but I want an empty set for the next play. Steve, corner route to the left sideline. Ruby, corner to the right sideline. Marlowe, you line up next to Ruby and run a post. Somebody should break free; if they don't, I'll run for it. Now let's go."

We broke the huddle and came up to the line. The Predictable Formulas showed the same lineup they'd shown the whole drive. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Hike!" I barked. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Boris stepped forward and ground his heel into Dale's foot. Dale yelped as he fell backwards, and Boris slipped around him. I started running towards the right, but remembered to keep my eyes downfield. Marlowe and Ruby went into their breaks at the same time, but Numbuh Two and Nazz stuck to them like glue and Ingrid faded back to help with any throw. My eyes flashed towards the line of scrimmage as I approached it–

And then I remembered Steve. My head swiveled to see him being blanketed by Snidely, but as Boris closed in on me I realized I had no other options and I hurled the ball across my body and across the field. It flew through the air.

And Steve stuck up his arms.

And the ball smacked into his hands.

And Steve fell backwards.

He dragged his feet in bounds.

And landed out of bounds at the 22.

First down, clock stopped, forty seconds remain.

 _prepare for the worst in the event of an emergency a lack of preparation can mean the difference between life and death a hurricane's winds can break two hundred and fifty miles per hour at the upper bound of a category five making the smallest object a deadly projectile_

We got up to the line. I sent Marlowe out to the left with instructions to run an out route. This time, Numbuh Two didn't follow her.

"Eighteen! Fifty-four! Thirteen! Hike!"

My eyes followed Ruby and then snapped over to Steve as he made his cut and broke away from Snidely, wide open. I threw the ball to him–

And Ingrid jumped in front of it–

And Ingrid couldn't bring it in.

Second and ten, thirty-two seconds, twenty-two yard line.

We huddled.

"Same play," I told them. "Same play."

This time, Numbuh Two followed Marlowe out to the left side.

"Hike!" I barked. The coverage was solid man, so I threw a jump ball to Ruby in the end zone, but Nazz knocked it away. Third and ten, twenty-five seconds left.

We came to the line again. I leaned over to Marlowe.

"Right side, inside of Ruby," I told her. "Run a deep in–ten yards, then cut. We need a first down."

Marlowe nodded and moved over to where I told her. I looked at the play clock as it ticked down.

"Eleven! Fifty-two! Fifty-two! Fifty-two! Hike!" I barked.

I took the snap. Almost immediately, Boris ducked under Dale to the right and ran right at me. Marlowe made her cut just as I threw the ball just as Boris slammed his helmet into my knee.

 _kill_

 _kill_

 _kill the short man_

 _short people have no reason to live_

 _nobody would miss him_

 _nobody loves him_

 _kill the short man_

 _wrap your hands around his scrawny little neck_

 _and wring it_

 _nobody with a mustache like that deserves to live_

 _lift him off the ground_

 _and strangle him_

 _strangle him for what he did_

 _nobody can cause you pain_

 _nobody can cause you pain_

 _make him pay_

 _make him_

 _hurt him_

 _destroy him_

 _kill the short man_

 _kill the short man_

Marlowe caught the ball and fell down at the eleven with nineteen seconds left.

First down.

I called timeout.

"Okay," I said in the huddle. "Shotgun, split receivers again. Audible will be the fourth number. And Marlowe, you block. If anybody tries to rush, you block them. I just need two seconds."

Marlowe nodded, and we broke the huddle and headed up to the line. I stared at the defense in their man formation with Ingrid waiting in the end zone.

"Nine! Seventy! Ninety-two! Sixty-eight! Fifty-seven! Nineteen! Twelve! Three! Twelve! Hike!" I yelled.

Dale snapped the ball. This time, Boris didn't rush. Instead, he faded back while Numbuh Two and Snidely rushed. I tried to arc the ball over his head, but he leapt up with a surprising jumping prowess and punched the ball into the air. It seemed to hang up there forever, and everyone rushed over to try and catch it in the back of the end zone.

Only for it to fall out of bounds.

With five seconds left.

Last play of the game, Priscilla.

I took our last timeout.

"Okay," I said to my team. "This is the last play. Just get in the end zone and get open. Okay?"

Dale nodded. "Any specific formation?"

"Same as usual," I said. "Except, Marlowe? Line up next to Dale and then take off for the center of the end zone. We'll see what happens."

"Got it," Marlowe said.

I nodded. "Let's do this."

We came up to the line. Marlowe lined up next to Dale. As soon as she did, Ingrid and Numbuh Two came up next to Boris, the three of them looking like they were going to rush me.

I took a deep breath.

"Hike!"

The ball flew into my hands and the defense flew away from the line. Numbuh Two headed right to cover Ruby. Boris backed off to help cover Steve. And Ingrid took on Marlowe in one-on-one. Dale, meanwhile, backed up, looking around for someone to block.

I scanned the field. Nobody was getting open. Suddenly, I got an idea and signaled for everyone to run to the left side. They complied, and I took off for the right side of the end zone.

My vision centered in on the right pylon. I just had to get over the line.

I ran as fast as I could and dove forward.

I saw a white flash.

I saw the lids of my eyes.

* * *

"You _have_ to put her in the sha-protocol! Head injuries are nothing to mess around with!"

Someone laughed. "Concussion protocol? Dude, this is Total Drama. We _aggravate_ injuries around here."

"That's not right. That's just not right."

"Hate to say it, but I agree with the kid."

I opened my eyes and saw three people staring down at me.

"See? She's alright," Chris said. "Now get back in there and finish the game!"

"What happened?" I asked blankly.

"You scored a touchdown," Chef said. "Score's forty-two, forty-one, extra point pending."

I got to my feet slowly. "Okay...okay."

I made my way over to the rest of my team. They looked at me with worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" Dale asked. "You took quite a hit to the head."

"I'm fine," I snapped. "Let's just kick this extra point and go to overtime."

"Are you s–"

"I'm sure," I snapped. "Let's go."

Everyone looked at me warily, but they made their way to the line. I followed, kneeling where I was supposed to, and stared at Dale's rump and the ball he was clutching.

"Go!" Ruby said loudly. Dale snapped the ball.

It clanked off my hands.

And fell to the ground.

A scrum ensued.

A whistle blew.

"Game over!" Lightning declared. "The sha-Formulas win, 42-41! Sha-zam!"

 **Overthought Reboots 41 - Predictable Formulas 42  
** **End of game**


	8. The Wide-Eyed Bubble Boy

**Enter...  
RUBY GLOOM**

That wasn't really how I wanted the game to end. But at least everybody had fun, right?

Apparently not. Everybody on our side looked downhearted as they left the field, except for the other team, who quickly started celebrating their victory. I didn't think this was very nice of them, but they did play a good game, and if I had dropped fewer balls maybe we would have won, and hopefully we'd have been nice to the losers. Although Aunt Grandma doesn't seem to be very nice, especially when we were losing. There she seemed really upset and kinda stressed. Also I'm pretty sure she got a concussion when Numbuh Two tried to tackle her on the last play, because she was knocked out by the hit and was really out of it afterwards. Plus I'm pretty sure she's taking this loss hardest of all.

Now that I think about it I should probably go comfort her. Everybody needs a friend.

I ran after her and managed to catch up.

"Hey, Aunt Grandma, it's okay," I said sympathetically. "We all lose sometimes."

Aunt Grandma just looked down at me with dull eyes and walked away. I started after her, but stopped and decided to let her go. Steve came up behind me.

"Don't worry about her," he said. "She's just upset about losing."

I nodded but couldn't bring myself to smile at him. "Sure. But could you vote me off tonight this time?"

"I voted you off last time!" Steve claimed. "But yeah, I will."

I chose not to question him. "Thanks. Spread the word to everyone else?"

"Don't worry," Steve said. "I'm sure you'll go home tonight. I just know it."

"Good," I said.

* * *

I ended up heading back to the cabin after everyone else took off. Nobody was particularly happy, but when I opened the door to the cabin I found Aunt Grandma sitting on her bed, seemingly staring at nothing. I walked over to my bed, sat down, and pulled out a collection of short stories I had brought with me. I got through two stories before deciding to rip off the bandage and talk to Aunt Grandma.

I looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

Aunt Grandma blinked and turned to me, eyes finally focusing and losing her dullness. "Sure," she said flatly.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You seemed pretty upset back there."

Aunt Grandma tensed up. "I hate to lose."

"It's just a game," I reminded her.

"A game with ten million dollars on the line," she said bitterly.

"Okay, sure," I said, "but money isn't everything. Isn't it enough to have fun?"

Aunt Grandma glared at me, got up, and walked out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

That did not go the way I wanted. I think I should talk to one of my friends and see if they have any advice.

* * *

I knocked on the door to the boys' side of the cabin. Dale opened the door.

"Oh! Ruby!" he said, surprised. "Hi. Um, do you want to talk to Steve or–"

"I need your advice," I said.

Dale scratched the back of his head. "Well, I–okay." He stepped out the door and sat down on the steps. I sat down beside him. "So what do you need?"

"Well, Aunt Grandma seems to be pretty upset–"

He snorted. "Yeah, I noticed. She's not a happy woman."

"Well–is there any way I can make her feel better?" I asked.

Dale sighed. "I don't know. I'm not–I'm not the smartest guy when it comes to women."

"So..." I pressed.

He shook his head. "I don't really think I can help you, unless you want me to not vote you off."

"No!" I said quickly. "Vote me off. I want to go home."

He nodded. "You got it. But I just want to warn you: something strange is going on."

"Is it the Mongolians from the future?" I asked.

"No," he said. "It's the voting. There's something weird going on, and I think Aunt Grandma's behind it."

I laughed. "You're crazy."

"You might think so," Dale said flatly. "You might think so."

* * *

I was late to arrive at the voting booth. When I arrived, only Steve was in front of me.

"Hey, Ruby," he said. "Still sure you want to be voted out?"

"I'm certain," I said. "Vote for me."

"You got it," he said. The door to the confessional opened, and Dale stepped out. Seeing me, he quickly saluted before walking off. Steve entered the confessional and shut the door. Seconds later, Marlowe ran up behind me. She skidded to a stop and panted for breath. "Can I still vote?"

"I think so," I said. "I'm going to, anyway."

"Good," Marlowe said, still breathing heavily.

"Hey, vote for me, okay?" I said.

Marlowe gave me a weak smile. "I will."

* * *

We were all gathered by the campfire when an incredibly skinny guy with dark skin, glasses, and a buzz cut walked up to the podium with a tray of marshmallows. He smiled at us.

"Hi, everyone," he said meekly. "My name's Cameron. I competed against Lightning in the finale of Revenge of the Island–"

"No one cares!" Chris cut in. "Just hand out the marshmallows."

Cameron blushed. "Right. So, um, Aunt Grandma is safe."

Aunt Grandma grabbed the marshmallow he threw her with a huge grin on her face.

"And uh, Dale, Steve, you get marshmallows too," Cameron said, tossing the treats inaccurately towards them.

This is it. I finally get to go home and see my friends again. I can't wait.

"And the final marshmallow goes to...Ruby!" Cameron said.

"WHAT?" Marlowe and I said at the same time.

"But that's not fair!" I protested. "I was supposed to be going home!"

"Yeah, we both voted for her!" Marlowe added. "There's no way I'm getting sent home instead!"

Cameron grinned awkwardly. "Sorry, but those are the rules."

Chef put a hand on Marlowe's shoulder. "C'mon. It's time to go."

Marlowe glared at all of us and let Chef lead her down to the dock. As she walked away, I looked around at my teammates and noticed Aunt Grandma smirking with a satisfied look on her face.

Maybe Dale isn't so crazy after all.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Marlowe: Ruby Gloom  
Steve: Marlowe  
Aunt Grandma: Marlowe  
Ruby Gloom: Ruby Gloom  
Dale Gribble: Marlowe

Final tally of votes cast:

Marlowe: 3  
Ruby Gloom: 2


	9. The Human Soundboard

**Enter...  
SNIDELY WHIPLASH**

It's good to be in charge. Yes, I know, this is obvious to anyone with any sort of sense, but most people don't have what it takes to be in charge. I, as a matter of fact, _do_ have what it takes to be in charge, and I am excellent at commanding people. There are, admittedly, a lot of dullards who don't realize how intelligent I am, and what a skilled tactical genius I am, but I suspect that that is changing. After evicting Wendy, I now have my team in the palm of my hand: I choose who stays, I choose who goes, and I choose what happens. Why, it's not at all a stretch to say that I am the odds-on favorite to win it all this year, especially since my loss last year was a total fluke. Instead of skulking in the shadows, I'm dealing in plain sight, and making it perfectly obvious that nobody can stop me so that nobody even ventures an attempt. Like yesterday, when the team rallied around me. Perhaps I wasn't playing one of the "skill" positions, but I clearly contributed heavily to our win in that insufferable American sport that they've sucked all the delicious violence out of. Honestly, I don't understand why Chris didn't use the Canadian version of the game, but then again the idea was thought up by that idiotic American. Not that I'm complaining; a win is a win, and each win propels me ever closer to the ten million dollar prize.

It was the day after the game that gave me trouble. I got out of bed, and immediately was reminded why young men are the ones who play sports, as my joints and muscles creaked and screamed in protest. I barely got through a quarter of my morning exercises before deciding that today was a day when I should rest–a rather intelligent decision, given the previous day's exertion. After finishing my daily exercises, or rather, deciding to vacation from them for a day, I headed over to the commissary to get breakfast. It's important to start your day with a filling meal, although I almost never get filling meals. Perhaps that's why my plans sometimes fail; I don't have the late-in-the-day energy that I need at those crucial moments.

When I arrived, I found that everyone else was already there except for Ingrid. I got my food and sat down next to Nazz. I examined her as I picked at my food.

"What?" Nazz asked, sounding disturbed.

I grinned. "Nothing at all, madam. Just enjoying this fine day."

Nazz looked away from me. I turned to Boris.

"So, Boris, any idea what the challenge will be?" I asked.

"I don't know," Boris said. "Although I hope it's another winnable challenge for us."

"Yes," I said.

"It's probably going to involve someone from Pahkitew," Nazz said. "If that's the case, it's going to be weird. That season had a bunch of crazy people."

My brow furrowed. "Nazz, do me a favor and get me another drink."

"I'm not your–" Nazz started to say.

"Now, don't quibble," I said. "I'm out of whatever this is–rotten apple juice? I need a new drink, and I don't want to have to move."

"So why do I have to get it?" Nazz asked angrily.

I grinned. "Because I _own_ you."

Nazz sat there for a few seconds with her jaw hanging open before she got up to get my juice.

"That was cruel," Boris said, sounding impressed.

I grinned and leaned back. "When you're in charge, you can be as cruel as you want."

"Is that so?" Boris asked.

"Are you getting ideas?" I asked.

"Oh, no, no, certainly not!" Boris quickly said.

"Because if you were, well, let's just say that there's a reason that you're always the low man on the totem pole," I said. "I mean, look at you. You're cowering because you think I might have discovered that you plan to backstab me. Meanwhile, you stabbed _your_ allies in the back when I pointed out you couldn't trust them, and now? Now _you_ have to trust _me_ , because if you don't, you _know_ there's no way they'll take you back. And if you try, well, you'll get the boot."

Boris stared at me, shocked.

"Tell me, Boris, are you impressed?" I asked.

Boris nodded grudgingly. "I am. You've worked out all the angles."

"That's what happens when you're a genius," I said. "Now give me your food."

Boris stared at me for a few seconds and then slid his plate over to me. I dug in. Just as I took my fourth bite, I heard an orchestra in the distance. The sound swelled and grew and seemed to approach us. It was building to a crescendo when the doors opened and Chris walked in, grinning cockily. Right after the music peaked and died, he began to speak.

"Good morning, campers!" he said. "Today, is going to be a good day. You see, today–hey, who's doing that?"

I listened closer. Something strange was going on, where Chris almost seemed to have two voices.

"Hey, stop it!" Chris's voices complained. "Not cool! Dude! Seriously! Gah! Anyway, today, you're going to–I CAN'T TAKE IT! AAAAHHH! BLUUURRRRRRRBBBBB! BIBBITY BOBBITY SHUT UP BEARDO!"

A large brown-skinned man with a humongous afro and an impressive beard wearing very, very ratty clothes walked into the room carrying a briefcase.

"Hello," he said. "My name, is be-air-dough. And I, was once a, contestant on, the sixth, season of Total, Drama, Pakhitew Island. I, was the first, contestant to, leave the show, in that, season. That's, because, I'm shy, around people, I don't know, and so I, usually run, around and, make sound effects. I'm, really good, at making, sound effects, and I want, to use, my abilities, on this show, again. So to, day, your challenge, is going, to be, to perform, a play, using, only my, sound effects, for, guidance."

"Aw, what?" Chris complained. "No way, dude! That'll be totally boring!"

"No, this is, my challenge," Beardo said.

"Uh-uh," Chris said. "This time, we're doing things my way! No arguments!"

"But–" Beardo started to say.

"Chef, bring out the explosions!" Chris said. "Set up the sharks! And get ready for the most dangerous challenge yet!"

"No way!" Beardo exclaimed. "Read, the contract."

"Excuse me?" Chris said flatly.

Beardo opened the briefcase and pulled out a large stack of papers. "Returning, contestant challenge, giver contract. Page, eighty-four, paragraph, five. 'All guest, hosts shall be, permitted, to give out their, challenge, without interference, from anybody, on the show, once the challenge, has been vetted, by network, lawyers, for safety, precautions."

"Let me see that," Chris snapped. Beardo handed over the contract, and he tore it up. "There. No more contract. Now let's get on with my challenge."

Beardo took out another contract. "The great thing, about lawyers, is, they make lots, of copies."

Chris scowled. "Fine. But–"

"Shut up, sit down," Beardo said.

"Hey! I'm the host of the show! You can't tell me what to do!" Chris complained.

"Shut up, sit down," Beardo repeated.

"Not cool, brah! Not cool!" Chris said angrily.

"Shut up, sit down," Beardo said for the third time.

Chris scowled but walked over to an unoccupied bench. Beardo made sad trombone sounds as he walked, and punctuated it with a loud, wet fart when Chris sat down.

"Okay, I'll see, all, of you at, the stage, in half an hour," Beardo said. He walked out, accompanied by a triumphant fanfare. I turned to Nazz.

"Weird, you say?" I asked.

* * *

Beardo was waiting for us when we arrived as a group. He smiled and gestured for us to get onstage. We did so, and the sound of an applauding crowd was heard as we boarded the stage.

"Okay, campers," Beardo said. "Today, you are going, to act out, a story, that I will tell, using, sound effects, and nothing else. You can, not, use your voices. Just, react, and go along, with the sounds."

Beardo stared at us. We stared back at him.

"Is that all?" Aunt Grandma asked impatiently.

"You used, your voice," Beardo said. "You're out."

"WHAT?" Aunt Grandma complained.

"Get off, the stage," Beardo said.

"That's totally unfair!" Aunt Grandma complained. "The game hasn't even started."

Beardo started making train noises with his mouth. Aunt Grandma growled but left the stage. Numbuh Two began pretending to be driving a train, and we pretended we were aboard. The train sounds were soon joined by the sound of thunder crashing all around us. We began acting scared, and Ingrid screamed. The sounds stopped, and Beardo pointed to her and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Ingrid looked at him, shocked, but he just hitched his thumb over his shoulder again, and Ingrid was forced to get off the stage. The sounds resumed, complete with a tense musical score. As we pretended to mingle, the sound of gunshots was heard. Nazz clutched at her chest as though she'd been hit, staggered around, and then collapsed onto the floor, playing dead. The sound of thunder faded out, and the music shifted into something more inquisitive.

Numbuh Two pretended to walk into the train compartment and faked a shocked gasp. He pointed at Nazz's prone body, and we all made motions of denial. Numbuh Two looked suspicious.

"This is obviously a murder!" he declared. Everything stopped.

"You're out!" Beardo said.

"What? Aw, c'mon!" Numbuh Two complained.

"Yes, he was just moving the plot along!" Boris added.

"You too, Boris," Beardo said. "Both of you are gone."

Boris groaned but left the stage with Numbuh Two. It was now up to just me and Nazz to win the game for our team. Luckily, we weren't up against the toughest group. Seriously, Steve? He was being played by me most of last season, and as soon as he wasn't he got sent home. Ruby didn't even make it to the merge. And Dale just stayed in the background until he became a sacrificial lamb. We've got this one in the bag. And even if we don't, well, nobody will miss Ingrid except for that pathetic teenager who goes by the idiotic appellation Numbuh Two.

The music and sound effects started up again, and we all resumed looking shocked at Nazz's prone body. Ruby's mouth formed a hard line, and she pulled a magnifying glass out of her pocket and began examining the scene. While she was doing this, I pretended to dust for fingerprints, and Steve joined in, examining the floor for clues. Dale just stood around and watched us cluelessly, and I smirked as I got an idea. I walked over to Dale and slammed my heel down on his foot.

"YOWCH!" Dale yelled.

The music and sound effects stopped. Dale gestured at me futilely.

"He made me do it!" Dale complained. "That's got to be against the rules."

Beardo shook his head. "Sorry. I probably, should have, thought of, that. But I didn't. So, you are, out."

Dale's expression soured, and he stalked off the stage and into the seats. He sat down in the first row and stared impassively at us. Suddenly, Ruby faked a gasp and pointed at me. Steve turned and stared me down as well, and I gestured my innocence. They advanced on me, however, and I feared what they might do until a sudden searing pain burst through my skull.

"OW!" I yelped involuntarily before going wide-eyed and realizing my mistake just as the sounds cut out.

"Ha!" Dale exclaimed. "How do you like that?"

"While I, can't condone, throwing rocks, at performers, he deserved it," Beardo said. "Snidely, sit down."

"Wait," Steve said. "Me and Ruby are the only ones left."

"We win!" Ruby cheered.

"Sorry, but no," Beardo said. "You two, just talked, which means that, the only one, who didn't talk, is Nazz. So, the Predictable, Formulas, win."

Steve and Ruby groaned and slapped their foreheads.

"Nicely done," Aunt Grandma said sarcastically. "Now one of us has to go home."

"Please, pick me!" Ruby begged. "I mean, I didn't do that on purpose, but–"

"Relax," Chris cut in. He walked down from the back of the seats. "I've decided to make some changes."

"What?" Beardo asked, confused. "But–"

"No," Chris said. "I looked over the contract, and you only get to tell me to shut up until the challenge is over. And since you've declared a winner, Chef?"

Chef picked Beardo up and carried him away.

"That takes care of that," Chris said smugly. "And I've decided some changes are in order. Change one is that Beardo is off the island, effective immediately."

In the distance, we heard Beardo scream.

Chris chuckled. "Yeah. Like that. Change number two is that this is now...a prize challenge!"

The Overthought Reboots cheered.

"I thought you'd like that," Chris said. "And change number three is that the prize...is only going to the winner!"

Nazz stood up. "Um, thanks. So like, what's the prize?"

"Well, everybody but you is going to get a copy of Beardo's beatboxing CD!" Chris announced.

Nazz frowned. "So what's my prize?"

"Your prize is that you don't have to take home that piece of plastic crap!" Chris said. "Seriously, consider yourself lucky. It's some of the worst 'music' I've ever had the displeasure of listening to Chef play. And now, change four: there will be no campfire ceremony tonight!"

"Really?" Steve asked skeptically.

"Yep!" Chris said. "Duncan will not be hosting a campfire cermony. Serves him right for blowing up my cottage. Only I get to blow stuff up. Challenge over, you're all dismissed, see you next time, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"


	10. The Delinquent

**Enter...  
BORIS BADENOV**

I had to act fast.

"So, I guess that means we win!" I said, acting chipper.

"What do you mean, we win, you dolt?" Snidely asked angrily. "Nobody won anything! Except for some stupid whatever it was from the bearded freak."

"Ah, Snidely, but we did win!" I said. "You know, from a certain point of view."

"What point of view is that?" he asked grouchily.

"The one where Nazz managed to win us the challenge," I said. "Of course, it could have gone better, but..."

Snidely growled. "Forget it. I'm going to bed. I still ache from that football game."

"You do that," I said cheerfully. "Rest up. Get ready for the next challenge. Feel better!"

Snidely just scowled and walked away. I nodded towards Ingrid and Numbuh Two, and they nodded back. I walked over to Nazz.

"Well, even if nobody else is going to celebrate, what say we celebrate together?" I asked.

Nazz gave me a disturbed look. "What do you mean, celebrate together?"

"Well, you know," I said. I leaned in and whispered "I brought some snacks from home when I came back to the island. You know, just in case."

Nazz raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Fine. I'm in."

We walked away from the theater together. Now I just had to figure out how to come around to my way of thinking.

"So what's the big idea?" Nazz asked.

I jolted. "W-what do you mean?"

"You know, for somebody who's supposedly really sneaky you're not good with surprises," Nazz said. "But we're far enough from everyone else that they can't hear us. So what is this really about?"

"Well, uh, um, I want to celebrate our victory?" I suggested.

"No, you don't," Nazz said. "First, nobody won anything. Second, you probably didn't bring snacks. Third, there's no reason for you to go to your cabin to get snacks if Snidely's not going to join us, because you know he'd just steal them. So what's the big idea?"

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay, this makes things easier. Come with me."

I turned on my heel and headed into the woods. Nazz followed me slowly.

"Hold on," she said behind me. "Is there a reason we're heading into the woods?"

I looked around nervously but didn't see Snidely anywhere. "I have a plan," I said.

"A plan for what?" Nazz asked frustratedly. "Could you stop being so confusing?"

We entered a clearing. I stopped in the middle of the clearing, knowing two people were behind me. Nazz caught up with me.

"What's so important you had to drag me into the woods?" she asked, annoyed.

"Yeah," Numbuh Two piped up. "Why'd you want us all to meet?"

Nazz spun around quickly. I turned around much more calmly and took note of the shocked expression on Nazz's face as she realized that Ingrid and Numbuh Two had been waiting for us.

"We need to get rid of Snidely," I said.

"What?" Nazz asked.

"Not that I don't agree, but why didn't we do that, oh, _at the start when Wendy was still here_?" Ingrid asked. "I still don't understand why you voted her out."

"Mistakes were made," I admitted. "But I had a good reason."

"Oh really?" Numbuh Two asked. "Is that somehow related to how you and Snidely are bosom buddies?"

"We are not bosom buddies!" I defended myself. "He just hasn't let me out of his sight! This is the first chance I've gotten to actually speak with you! Why'd you think I left that note in your underwear?"

"And thanks for that, by the way," Numbuh Two said sourly. "That was a really creepy way to deliver a note."

"If I left it somewhere he could see it, Snidely would have stolen it," I said.

"That still doesn't explain why Wendy's gone," Ingrid said. "Now get talking."

"Remember last time?" I said. "You know, when Wendy was being all bossy?"

"Well..." Ingrid said slowly.

"She was pretty bossy," Nazz acknowledged.

"I knew that she'd try to take charge, and eventually we'd probably have to vote her off anyway," I continued. "So when Snidely came to me with an offer, I thought, why not? That'll get me in with Nazz and Snidely, and I'd be able to figure out their next moves and who the biggest threat was."

"Snidely," Ingrid said.

"Snidely," I agreed.

"Why not _tell us_?" Numbuh Two asked, still upset. "We wouldn't have thought you'd turned traitor then!"

"I told you, I didn't have a chance!" I snapped. "Snidely was all over me from the end of the first campfire ceremony up until now."

"That still doesn't explain what _she's_ doing here," Ingrid said.

"Yeah," Nazz said. "Why am I here?"

I turned to her. "Because you don't like Snidely much either."

"So?" Nazz asked bitterly. "It's not like I have many options."

"Honestly, it's your own fault," Ingrid said. "If you hadn't tried to play everyone off each other last year, you might have more friends."

"Ladies, ladies, let's not bicker," I said. "I just want to make everyone a deal: we all vote off Snidely after the next loss."

"Why should I?" Nazz asked.

"Because we both know that Snidely is going to continue to blackmail us to do whatever he wants," I said. "I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to be a lackey again. I have enough of that with Fearless Leader and Mister Big. So personally, I am not working with Snidely anymore, and I'm voting him off."

"Why should we trust you?" Numbuh Two asked.

"You shouldn't," I said. "But let me ask you this: what do I have to gain by telling you to vote off Snidely?"

"We won't vote for you?" Ingrid suggested.

"Were you going to anyway?" I asked.

"Okay, no," Numbuh Two admitted. "But–"

"We were going to vote for Snidely," Ingrid said.

"Great!" I said. "Then nothing has changed."

"Why bring _her_ in, though?" Ingrid asked.

I grinned. "You don't really trust me, and I don't really trust you. So here's the insurance: you know for a fact that we're both going to vote off Snidely. If you vote with us, he goes home, no matter what."

"And why should I vote with you?" Nazz asked. "I don't have any reason to betray Snidely. Apart from him being a jerk, of course."

"How do you know what Snidely will ask you to do next?" I asked.

Nazz's pupils shrank. "Okay then. I'll vote for Snidely at the next elimination ceremony."

I grinned. "Then it's settled. Snidely goes home next."

The four of us nodded at each other and went our separate ways.


	11. The Pageant Queen

**Enter...  
DALE GRIBBLE**

I wake up sweating and scared. As I gaze across the floor of the cabin, I note that the sun has risen through the shade, but it's not shining brightly. I grab my watch off of the table beside my bed and glance at the face. 6:02.

I plop back down in my bed and stare at the bunk over me. Something must have happened for me to wake up like this. Maybe it was just a nightmare, but I don't remember any nightmare. Maybe the government is outside the cabin door. I ought to–

Joseph.

Something must have happened to Joseph. I'm in Canada, he's in Arlen–anything could have happened. Well, many things could have happened. I need to get back to Arlen and make sure everything's okay. I need to see my son.

Although I might end up screwing things up for him. I mean, I love him, but I admit that I don't always know what's best for him. He's a good kid, no doubt about it. But I sometimes worry I'm not a very good father. And I did tell Hank to make sure Joseph and Nancy were okay.

I did tell Hank, didn't I? I can't really remember what happened.

I roll over and see Steve looking at me, blinking sleepily.

"Hey," he says. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Go back to sleep."

He rolls over and leans on his elbow as he looks at me. "Are you sure? You seem pretty upset."

I sigh. "Yeah, I guess I am. It's just–this island, you know?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I know what it's like to be surrounded by weird danger all the time from my time in the lab."

"It's not that," I say. "It's being so far away from home, you know? I miss my family. Joseph, and Nancy. I love them both, and I'm not sure if a million dollars is worth being away from both of them for this long. I mean, sure, Joseph is going to sports camp, so I wouldn't see him anyway, but I really miss them both. I know that this would really help with Joseph's college fund, and with our retirements, but–I miss them both. I'd like to see them again."

Steve smiles. "You're lucky. You have something to go back to."

"And you don't?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really. Nothing but lab work–if you can call it a lab. And I swore I'd never go back to that."

Something's not right here. What exactly _was_ Steve doing in that laboratory? There's no explanation, unless it was the government, forcing him to do horrible experiments to control us. But then, why wouldn't he go back? Unless–he's a fugitive.

"So why'd you quit?" I ask casually.

"It was too stressful," he says. "Keeping up with all the crazy stuff going on there?"

I nod sagely. "Yep. Working for the government will do that to ya."

Steve pauses. "Right."

"Hey, you notice anything strange about Aunt Grandma?" I ask.

Steve hesitates. "Maybe? Why do you ask?"

"Because I think she's up to something," I say. "I think she's the reason that Ruby hasn't been voted out yet."

Steve's eyes widen. "So you mean..."

"I think there's something going on with her," I say. "I mean, did you vote for Ruby?"

Steve averts his eyes.

"You didn't, did you!" I say accusatorially.

Steve raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, I know what you're thinking, but I've been voting for whomever I think deserves to go home. But I voted for Ruby, I swear! So maybe I didn't do it the first time, but I thought that Aunt Grandma was going to be the weak link, okay?"

"So you voted for Ruby in the last vote?" I ask.

"Yeah," Steve says.

I stroke my chin. "Strange. So did I. And I know Ruby did too. She's not the type to lie about something like that...or is she?"

"So you think Ruby didn't vote for herself?" Steve asks.

"Maybe not," I say. "But who did Marlowe vote for?"

"That's a good question," Steve says. "I'm gonna grab a shower. I always think better in the shower."

I nod. "Yeah. I'll take one after you."

* * *

At breakfast, neither of us has made any headway. I mean, sure, I'm cleaner than I was before I showered, and I'm not feeling as nervous as I was earlier, but I'm not sure if that's just because I'm trying to figure out this conspiracy. I really wish I had my notebooks with me. There's nothing like writing out the facts to piece together what's really going on. Like how the U.N. forces emission standards on American lawnmowers in order to inflate the price of oranges. It's all done to prop up Florida's economy. Without those emission standards, Florida's only economic activity would be shuffleboard.

That's not to say that today's breakfast is any good. It's just lettuce and fruit juices. Even though it's rabbit food, though, it's still better than almost everything Chef has served us so far, so I dig in and eat a few leaves of lettuce and drink a cup of orange juice. That's when Chris walks in.

"Morning, campers!" he says happily. "I bet you're wondering what's up with breakfast?"

Some of us mutter our agreement.

"Well, you see, there are two reasons for that," Chris says. "First of all, you're looking a little chunky. Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe, considering we barely feed you. But it's true. I guess you don't have my great genes. And second, today is beauty pageant day! That's right, today's challenge is being presented by distinguished former competitor Sugar!"

A pudgy blonde girl wearing a too-tight outfit burst in through the door grinning widely. She looked at breakfast and visibly recoiled.

"Now what's all this?" she asked, upset. "Every good pageant queen's breakfast has to have lard, and bacon, and lard, and raccoon, and lard!"

"Yeah, no," Chris said. "I'm surprised you've won _any_ pageants with a diet like that."

The blonde girl glared at him. "Talking stops now."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, that'll happen. No, but seriously–"

"Contract," the blonde said harshly. Chris's mouth snapped shut.

"That's better," the blonde said. "Now where's my go-go juice?"

Chef walked out from the kitchen and handed her a huge drink container. She chugged from the container and grinned.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" she said happily. "Howdy folks, my name's Sugar, pageant queen extraordinary! Only I'm not ordinary. So extra-extra! Now can y'all wannabes guess what you're doing today?"

"A pageant?" Ingrid suggests.

"Correct!" Sugar exclaims. "And it's going to take place–"

"At the stage like half of our challenges so far?" Steve says.

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!" Sugar yells. "There are going to be four parts. Poise, Swimsuit, Evening Gown, and Interview. There _was_ going to be a talent portion, but apparently Harold already did that. Oh well. Now finish your breakfast and let's get started!"

* * *

I still don't see what a beauty pageant is supposed to train me to do. I mean, I know that it has to have some purpose to the invading Mongolian Armies of 2087, otherwise why would they have me do it? I just don't know what it's supposed to teach me. For that matter, most of the challenges haven't really seemed like they'd be helpful. Sure, the geek's challenge about weird skills may have been intended to tap some hidden talent of mine, and the second challenge may have been a test of how well I could suck up. But mime? Fashion design? Beauty pageants? I just don't see what this is training me for.

Unless maybe the challenges aren't the point. Maybe they're a distraction, and what I'm really supposed to be doing is figuring out what's going on that makes the votes make no sense. They could be rigged–actually, they probably are rigged by the Mongolians. But they're probably pointing in a specific direction. Somehow, there has to be something that points to _someone_ as the clear culprit of–whatever it is that's going on.

That's the annoying part, really. Most conspiracies revolve around something clear. There's a body, or evidence that something's not right–like JFK, his head was blown open in front of a bunch of people. Or the Beast, there was evidence for that, what with the whole profit motive and the Internet and the fact that Hank received a bunch of porno mail after that false charge went through.

Not that that's important right now. If the challenges are important, that is. I can't tell either way. But if the challenges are important, I've got to focus. We're all backstage, and I know that despite my rampant sexiness there's no way that I'll win the challenge for my team on my own. I don't even know if the winner is based on how everyone on a team does or on who the best person on a team is.

"Oh come on! Do I really have to do this?" I hear Chris ask angrily.

"Contract," Sugar says. "Besides, this might help you land another emcee position at some fancy award ceremony."

"Uh, I already have one of those lined up," Chris says. "Fine. I'll do it."

I hear the loudspeakers turn on with a squeak, and seconds later Chris's voice booms out of them haltingly. "Contestants! It's time for the poise part of the competition! So get out on the catwalk and show your self-confidence and pageanting ability!"

Ingrid heads for the stage. As she does, we hear Chris mutter "Geez, would it be possible for you to learn how to spell?"

"Hey, my spelling is great!" Sugar says. "And turn those loudspeakers off if you want to talk back to me."

I'm the next one up after Ingrid. I do my best to put on a confident smile and strut down the catwalk. Sugar just stares at me and makes a mark on her clipboard. As I reenter the wings, Numbuh Two passes by, headed for the stage.

I hope I did well. I know I had to sell the confidence angle, but I'm not sure I pulled it off. I mean, I'm not the most confident guy, even if I should be. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe humility is just something I naturally possess. Either way, everyone else walked down the runway while I prepared for the next part of the pageant and thanked God that we were always going in the same order. I wasn't a fan of the second category, though; I mean, evening gown? Am I really going to be expected to pull that off?

It's a good thing I brought a suit.

Nazz comes backstage again, and the loudspeakers crackle to life again. "And with that, the scores for Poise are in!" Chris announces. "Ingrid, you get a six. Dale, three. Numbuh Two, eight."

"Two!" Sugar corrects.

"Numbuh Two, two," Chris says. "Aunt Grandma, nine. Snidely, six. Ruby, zero. Boris, four. Steve, eight."

"Two!" Sugar corrects.

"Steve, two," Chris says. "And Nazz, seven. Now, let's see you in your evening gowns!"

Here goes nothing. I've got my suit on and I'm ready to go. Right after Ingrid.

As soon as Ingrid comes back, I strut my stuff on the catwalk again. I'm met by Sugar's stony stare, and despite the fact that I get the sense I shouldn't be scared of her–I am. She basically controls my fate. And such a bad score in the first round doesn't bode well for me. I'd really like to pull something good off here.

Everyone else goes through their routine. Snidely goes by in his regular clothes, as does Steve, and I wonder whether that'll have an impact on how we're graded.

"The scores for Evening Gown are in!" Chris announces. "Ingrid, seven. Dale, two?" Sugar doesn't correct him. "Numbuh Two, two. Aunt Grandma, nine. Snidely, two."

"Eight!" Sugar yells.

"Snidely, eight," Chris says. "Ruby, zero. Boris, ten. Steve, one. Nazz...help me out here?"

"Eight!" Sugar says. "C'mon, can't you read?"

"Not when your twos look like eights and your eights look like twos!" Chris exclaims. "Seriously! Learn to write clearly! And how to spell!"

"Learn how to emcee!" Sugar fires back bitterly.

"Fine! Whatever! Nazz gets an eight. Now let's move on to the swimsuit portion!" Chris says.

I'm glad I brought my swim trunks along. Steve doesn't look very happy, though, and he's not yet dressed. Ingrid heads out ahead of me, and I take a deep breath. As soon as she comes back, I'll have to try and look like I'm proud to wear a swimsuit on a catwalk. I mean, I'm not ashamed of my body or anything, but what if they judge me for the bites I have? Or for the fact that I'm not as skinny as I look?

Ingrid comes back. Here goes nothing.

I walk down the catwalk as calmly as I can, faking a smile and glad my mirrored sunglasses hide my actual expression. I make sure not to rush as I walk, turn, and walk back. As soon as I'm backstage, I head for a dressing room to put on my clothes, passing Steve, who is now in his underwear.

As I get dressed, I consider what could be happening. Somehow, somebody on our team is getting rid of people that shouldn't be leaving. The suspects? Well, I guess all of us. I'm pretty sure Aunt Grandma's behind it, but maybe I need to rethink everything. Start with evidence and use that to figure out the culprit.

I walk out just as Nazz reenters backstage and the loudspeakers turn on again.

"And the scores are in!" Chris announces. "Ingrid, you got a four. Dale...two?" Sugar doesn't correct him. "Numbuh Two, a surprising ten. Aunt Grandma, nine. Snidely, three. Ruby, zero." Ruby slumps with disappointment. "Boris...eight?"

"Two!" Sugar yells.

"Boris, two. Steve, four. Nazz, ten. Now let's get ready for the interviews! Ingrid, you're up!"

Ingrid walks out onto the stage. I hear Sugar ask her a question, but I don't pay much attention to what it is. I have to figure out what's going on. So, first, me. Dale. Am I the culprit? No. I've voted for Ruby every time. That leaves Ruby, Steve, and Aunt Grandma as suspects.

"Thank you, Ingrid!" Chris announces. "Sugar, her score?"

"Four!" Sugar says.

"Dale, you're up!" Chris says.

Okay, never mind all that. I have to get onstage and be interviewed.

I walk onto the stage and over to Sugar, who has a bunch of index cards in her hand.

"Okay, Dale," she says. She reads an index card slowly. "What would you do if you ruled the world? Now that's a foolish question." She waits a few seconds. "Well? What would you do?"

"Oh!" I say. "Well, if I ruled the world, I would reveal the secrets behind everything. Global warming! JFK! The Freemasons! Every single thing that has been covered up would be revealed! And finally everyone, everyone would see the truth!" I laugh giddily. "Also, I'd make Nancy the head newscaster for the world and buy Joseph a new bike."

"Thank you, Dale!" Chris says. "Sugar?"

"Two," Sugar says. "You aren't thinking of it as an eight, are ya?"

"No, Sugar," Chris says, sounding annoyed. "Next up, we have Numbuh Two."

I pass Numbuh Two as I walk backstage, nodding to him to acknowledge him. As soon as I get backstage, I take a seat on the floor and began thinking. At times like these, I could really use a cigarette. But I can't get kicked off the island again, so that's out of the question. So let's look at the facts. What do we have? We have people being sent home who wouldn't be expected to go home. Me, Ruby, and Steve all agree that we voted for Ruby last time, which means one of us is probably lying. But even if it was just me and Ruby who voted for Ruby, Marlowe wouldn't have voted herself off. Which means that a tiebreaker _should_ have been forced. There wasn't a tie, though. Marlowe just got sent home. So who voted for who?

Let's start from the beginning and try to piece this together. I voted for Ruby. Marlowe voted for not-Marlowe. This means that at least two people must have voted for Marlowe, and nobody could have voted for Ruby or whoever Marlowe voted for. This means that Steve must be lying about having voted for Ruby, and Ruby must be lying about having voted for herself.

Unless Chris decided to skip the tiebreaker and just boot someone off? He did send me off the island without deliberation. But he told everybody that it was a tie. Which makes sense. He seems to like making things more stressful than they have to be, so he would probably say it was a tie. But he might also keep it secret in order to make everyone more suspicious.

No matter how I look at this, it doesn't add up. Steve or Ruby or both are lying, I know that. Aunt Grandma probably didn't vote off Ruby either. But if that's the case, what am I supposed to conclude? None of this adds up!

Maybe I should start over. I voted for Ruby, Marlowe voted for not-Marlowe, at least two of Ruby, Aunt Grandma, and Steve voted for Marlowe. So if–

"Alright, everybody, come out on the stage, Sugar's about to declare a winner!" Chris says.

We gather on the stage. Sugar smiles at us.

"And the winner is...who got the most points?" Sugar calls up.

"I don't know!" Chris says. "I thought you were keeping track!"

"I thought you were!" Sugar says.

"I thought this would happen," Chef grumbles. He clears his throat. " _I_ kept track! The winner, with thirty-six points, is–"

"Wait!" Sugar says. "First, I'd like to name the biggest loser, Ruby!"

Ruby shrugs. "Well, y'know, I've never been in one of these before, so–"

"Ha!" Sugar barks. "How's it feel, miss goody-goody two-shoes? Gonna complain to everyone about losing?"

"Uh, no," Ruby says. "Are you mad at me or something?"

Sugar narrows her eyes. "Oh, you're good. You're _real_ good. Chef!" she barks. "Who won?"

"Aunt Grandma," Chef says.

"Congratulations on winning the beauty pageant!" Sugar says. "You're the queen of Camp Wawanakwa!"

"And this is the end of the challenge!" Chris says. "Sugar, get your butt off my island! Overthought Reboots, congratulations on winning! Predictable Formulas, you get to send someone home! Figure it out and vote tonight!"

Everybody on our team rushes over to congratulate Aunt Grandma except for me. I stare at her instead.

Something fishy is definitely going on.


	12. The Jersey Shore Reject

Dale wasn't the only person looking around suspiciously. Snidely was doing the exact same thing as he looked at the other members of his team, and when they made to leave the auditorium he crept up next to Boris.

"So, Boris," he said, faking cheerfulness, "Shall we talk to Nazz?"

"Why?" Boris asked, confused.

"So we can figure out who to vote off, of course," Snidely said. "Unless, of course, you think that you can go it alone."

Boris quickly shook his head. "No no, you are right! Certainly, certainly, let us talk to Nazz."

Numbuh Two and Ingrid watched Boris and Snidely head off together. Numbuh Two turned to Ingrid.

"Think we can trust him?" he asked.

Ingrid shrugged. "It's not like we were going to vote somebody else off anyway."

"I suppose," Numbuh Two admitted. "I just don't know..."

Ingrid shrugged again. "Hope springs eternal."

* * *

Dale wandered towards the Overthought Reboots' cabin, deep in thought. His eyes stared ahead at the ground in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. Consequently, he didn't hear Steve approach and didn't notice Steve walking beside him until Steve broke the silence with a cough.

"So what're you thinking about?" Steve asked.

"I'm...not sure," Dale admitted. "I'm still thinking about how everyone is leaving in ways that make no sense. But the pieces aren't falling into place. There's gotta be something I'm missing."

"Do you think it would help to talk about it?" Steve asked.

Dale looked at Steve, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.

* * *

Ruby and Aunt Grandma lay on their beds. Aunt Grandma was reading a periodical, and Ruby was staring at the bunk above her. She lofted a sigh into the air, and Aunt Grandma looked up.

"Something wrong?" Aunt Grandma asked.

"Why doesn't anybody like me?" Ruby replied.

"Well..." Aunt Grandma started to say before reconsidering. "What makes you think nobody likes you?"

"I've been asking people to vote me off this whole time, but I'm still here," Ruby said. "I don't understand why."

"Maybe they like you so much they want to keep you around," Aunt Grandma suggested.

Ruby looked at her. "Is that why you haven't been voting for me?"

Aunt Grandma gasped in shocked. "I _have_ been voting for you! It keeps me safe."

Ruby shook her head and looked away. "That's what they all say."

* * *

"Who should we vote for?" Snidely asked. "Suggest away. I'm open to ideas."

"Numbuh Two," Nazz said instantly.

"Really?" Boris asked, surprised. "But–"

"I know he's your friend," Nazz said, cutting him off. "But last time, Ingrid won it all even though he was gone. She can function without Numbuh Two. I don't know if Numbuh Two will be fine without her. And if we want to keep winning, we'll need all the help we can get."

Boris thought for a few seconds. "I believe Nazz is right. Numbuh Two it is."

"Good, then it's settled," Snidely said. He smirked. "All that's left is to cast the votes."

* * *

Dale lay on his bed. Steve sat on his bed across from him, watching intently. Dale took a deep breath.

"Okay," Dale said. "I can't figure out how Marlowe got voted off last week."

Steve looked worried. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've thought about it a lot, and there's no way Marlowe voted for herself," Dale said. "That means that there were basically four votes in play, and if two of them went to Ruby, at most it should have been a tie between her and Marlowe. Since I know I voted for Ruby, and you voted for Ruby, and Ruby voted for Ruby, it doesn't make sense that somehow Marlowe got sent home. Especially since nobody gets sent home just because they voted themselves out."

"Well..." Steve said guiltily.

"Well what?" Dale asked.

"Well, I voted for Aunt Grandma," Steve admitted.

Dale stared at him. "What."

"I–look, let me explain," Steve said guiltily. "I don't really want to see Ruby go home. I mean, what if she goes home and then regrets it for the rest of her life?"

"Then that's her choice to make!" Dale said. "You don't get to choose when somebody goes home!"

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but shut it and tried again. "Yeah, but if what you're saying is true, that Marlowe didn't vote for herself–"

"I'm pretty sure she didn't," Dale said. "About 90% sure."

"Then Ruby didn't vote for herself," Steve said.

"What do you mean?" Dale asked.

"I mean, you voted for Ruby, I voted for Aunt Grandma, and Marlowe didn't vote for herself, right?" Steve asked.

"So Aunt Grandma and Ruby had to vote for Marlowe?" Dale asked.

"I think so," Steve said.

Dale shook his head. "I don't know. Are you sure that Ruby was lying?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Steve said. "I just don't understand why."

"Neither do I," Dale said. His mouth formed a hard crease. "Neither do I."

* * *

Dinner was a mostly silent affair among the Predictable Formulas, with Snidely, Boris, and Nazz sitting at one end of their table and Numbuh Two and Ingrid sitting at the other end. Things weren't much better among the Overthought Reboots, as Dale kept casting questioning glances at Ruby and Aunt Grandma. Ruby was also looking at her teammates suspiciously. The only people at the table who didn't seem tense were Steve and Aunt Grandma.

"So...nice job winning the pageant," Steve eventually said to her.

Aunt Grandma speared a chunk of something purple on the end of her fork. "Oh, believe me, it was my pleasure. Not that it was ever in doubt."

"I'm sure it wasn't," Steve said unenthusiastically.

Aunt Grandma glared at him. "Are you saying you don't think I should have won?"

"Uh..." Steve said awkwardly. "I'd prefer not to answer."

Aunt Grandma's left eye twitched, but she turned her attention to her meal and stabbed at a chunk of what might have been meat with her knife. The tip bounced off of the food, and the knife went flying, lodging itself in the ceiling blade-first. Everyone on both teams turned to stare at her.

Aunt Grandma laughed hollowly. "Tough meat, huh? What can you do?"

After a few seconds, everyone turned back to their meals. Steve stared at Aunt Grandma with wide eyes.

* * *

 _Confessional_

"Okay, I don't want to raise any tensions in the team or anything," Steve said. "But Aunt Grandma is, uh, kinda scary. I'm thinking she's probably the biggest threat here. Although then again, she's also the strongest member of the team...huh. This is a tough one."

* * *

Snidely was the first one to stand up from dinner, beckoning Boris and Nazz to come with him even though neither of them had finished their food. Both of them got up and followed, but as they left Boris looked back at Numbuh Two and Ingrid and nodded.

Numbuh Two and Ingrid looked at each other.

"I guess it's time," Numbuh Two said.

Numbuh Two and Ingrid headed out the door, lagging behind the first three to leave. Snidely led them forward with a ghoulish smirk on his face.

"This is it," he said proudly. "Tonight, our domination begins. First we get rid of that fool Numbuh Two, and then we get rid of Ingrid. Nothing can possibly stop us now!"

Behind his back, Nazz and Boris traded a look. Snidely didn't notice. Soon, they arrived at the confessional booth to cast their votes. Snidely stopped a few feet away.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the door. Nazz gulped and entered the voting booth. Ingrid and Numbuh Two arrived seconds later and were greeted by Snidely's ghastly grin.

"Got your strategy worked out?" Snidely gloated.

"You know what?" Numbuh Two said. "We do."

Snidely cackled. The door to the outhouse opened, and Nazz stepped out of the voting booth. Snidely walked in, still laughing. Nazz walked over to Ingrid.

"Is our deal still on?" Nazz asked hopefully.

Ingrid nodded. "Just for tonight."

Nazz shrugged. "Good enough."

Nazz walked away. Seconds later, the door opened and Snidely walked out. He grinned at Ingrid and Numbuh Two.

"Your turn," he said smugly. "But please, be quick. Some of us have a schedule to keep.

Ingrid flipped him off and entered the booth. Snidely drew his cloak around himself and headed into the woods. Boris sidled up to Numbuh Two.

"Just so you know, I didn't want to do this," he said.

Numbuh Two looked at him, confused. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"You son of a bitch!" Numbuh Two exclaimed.

The door swung open and Ingrid stepped out, looking confused. As she took in the scene before her–Numbuh Two angry and Boris looking guilty–her eyes widened and she realized what must have happened.

"Boris..." she said threateningly.

Boris grinned sheepishly and made his way into the confessional. After a minute, he stepped out and saw Numbuh Two and Ingrid glaring at him. His fake smile weakened under their glares, and he quickly slunk off towards the campfire pit. Numbuh Two entered the confessional, and Ingrid continued to glare at where Boris had disappeared into the night.

"Oh yeah," she said to herself. "He's gonna pay."

* * *

Everyone was seated by the campfire pit when a girl with gigantic hair, pounds of makeup, and an obvious fake tan walked up to the podium.

"'Ey!" she barked. "Settle down!"

Ingrid looked at her, confused. "We are settled."

"Aw, I know that, I'm just playing," she said in a thick Jersey accent. "C'mon, how about you all sit back and relax. You got nothing to worry about. 'Cept maybe you," she said, pointing to Ingrid. "Geez, ain't you ever heard of the sun? I mean, look at me. _Look_ at me. Perfect hair, perfect tan, perfect everything. You gotta, you gotta lay down the initial tan and then keep it up, girl. Seriously, what are you even thinking. What are you thinking. Get yourself some color in that skin! You too, Ruskie."

"I am not a Russian!" Boris protested. "I am–"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Anne Maria said. "You're something not Russian even though you got that accent. You need to learn to speak normal, like me. But ya ain't here for an speaking lesson. And you, blueskin. Get some sun or something. Ick. Your skin creeps me out."

"Could you just get to the votes?" Snidely asked impatiently. "I want to see Numbuh Two get voted out already!"

Numbuh Two and Ingrid both gasped.

"Awright, awright, geez, keep your pants on!" Anne Maria said, rolling her eyes. "Lessee, I got the votes here in front of me. Hold on a sec." She picked up a stack of notecards and looked at them. "Lessee here. Got a vote for Numbuh Two."

Numbuh Two glared at Boris. Boris shrugged helplessly.

"That can't be somebody's name," Anne Maria said. "Did you seriously drag me out here just to make me vote out poop? I swear, when I find Chris I am gonna kick him in the nuts so hard, they'll fly out his mouth!" She stormed away from the podium. "You hear me, Chris? I'm gonna–"

"Uh, that's me actually," Numbuh Two ventured.

Anne Maria stopped and turned back to the campers. "What're you talking about?"

"I'm Numbuh Two," Numbuh Two said.

Anne Maria's jaw dropped. "Really? And uh, you thought that was a good idea, Slick?"

"Look, just get on with the vote counting," Snidely said. "I'd like to flush him as much as you."

Anne Maria eyed him balefully. "Yeah, who do you think you are? We do this my way, understand? Now shut up and sit down while I read the votes."

Snidely looked down to check that he was still seated and then looked back up at Anne Maria as she took out a can of hairspray and resprayed her hairdo while looking at the next vote.

"Says this one's for Snidely," Anne Maria said. "That you, blueskin?"

Snidely nodded, smirking as he did so.

"Meh, no skin off my nose," Anne Maria said. "And we've got a vote for...Snidely."

Snidely's face cracked into a grin. "Two votes for me?"

"That's right," Anne Maria said.

Snidely turned to Numbuh Two with a grin on his face. "Well, how do you like that. It seems you failed."

Numbuh Two flipped him off.

"'Ey!" Anne Maria barked. "If you two are gonna fight, it oughta be over me, not over some dumb vote!"

"Please, continue," Snidely said smarmily. "I want to see how this plays out."

"Awright, fine," Anne Maria said. "And another vote is in, for...Boris?"

The smile dropped off of Snidely's face. Boris looked scared.

"What do you mean, Boris?" Snidely asked, anger beneath his calm.

"S'what it says here, blue boy," Anne Maria said.

Snidely's brow furrowed as he looked over to Nazz and Boris. "Which one of you fools betrayed me?"

Nazz offered up a high-five to Boris. Boris shrugged and slapped her hand.

"Wait," Numbuh Two said. "You mean you two voted for Snidely?"

"Uh, yes," Boris said. "It's what we all agreed to do, right?"

"Well after you came up to tell me that I thought you had turned on me!" Numbuh Two exclaimed.

"We're friends!" Boris said. "That comes later! First we get rid of Snidely, then we go far in the competition, then I turn on you when you least expect it!"

"Then why'd you tell me you were sorry?" Numbuh Two asked angrily.

"I thought Snidely might be listening!" Boris said.

"I was," Snidely said angrily. "Are you telling me that you two turned on me?"

"Yes," Nazz and Boris said in unison.

Snidely glared at Boris. " _You_ are going to _pay_ in the tiebreaker."

"There's not going to be a tiebreaker," Ingrid said.

Snidely's back stiffened. "What."

"I voted for you too," Ingrid said.

"And I would've voted for you if I hadn't thought Boris set me up," Numbuh Two said.

"You're going home, dude," Nazz added.

Anne Maria looked at the last vote. "Yeah, this one's for Snidely too."

"WHAT!" Snidely exclaimed. "NO! I DO NOT CONCEDE! YOU WILL PAY! YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS!" Chef grabbed him and dragged him down to the dock, kicking and screaming. "THIS ISN'T OVER! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! I WILL BE BACK, AND I WILL WIN THIS! I SWEAR, YOU'LL REGRET DOING THIS! NAZZ, YOU'LL LEAVE AS SOON AS THEY LEAVE! BORIS, YOU'RE NEXT AFTER HER! EVERYONE ON MY TEAM WILL LOSE! I SWEAR YOU'LL REGRET THIS!"

Chef tossed him onto the boat, and it purred away from the shore. Snidely continued screaming threats as the boat moved away.

"And so, another camper leaves the island," Chris said, stepping up next to Anne Maria. "Who will be the next to go? How will Nazz ever win without any allies? And what, exactly, am I going to do to restore my hearing after Snidely's temper tantrum?"

"Uh, excuse me!" Anne Maria said. "Are you just going to ignore me?"

"Yes," Chris said. "Because _I_ am the host of this show, and don't you forget it! Now join us next time when yet another annoying camper takes over my job and gives out another stupid challenge, here, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Snidely Whiplash  
Boris Badenov: Snidely Whiplash  
Ingrid Third: Snidely Whiplash  
Snidely Whiplash: Numbuh Two  
Numbuh Two: Boris Badenov

Final tally of votes cast:

Snidely Whiplash: 3  
Boris Badenov: 1  
Numbuh Two: 1


	13. The Strong Silent Genius

**Enter...  
STEVE**

I wake up to the sound of music. Not normal music, though. It's rhythmic, pounding, loud. It's a symphony of construction equipment. I realize that's a misnomer, but that's what it sounds like. Beautiful music that happens to be produced by jackhammers and engines and steel beams.

Dale wakes up too. He's confused, just like me, and we head outside. There, a bunch of machines have been set up to produce the noise. As everyone on the island gathers by our cabins, a giant metal ball drops down from a large tower. It slams into the ground and slowly rolls forward, stopping a few feet away from us. A hatch in the side of the ball hisses open and reveals a hefty young man in a long coat. He has brown skin and a baseball cap obscures his hair, and as he steps out I catch a glimpse of his eyes. There's knowledge behind them. There's something that says that this guy is smart.

He stops in front of us and opens his mouth to speak.

"Good morning, campers!" Chris says cheerfully, cutting him off. "Today's challenge giver is the one, the only, Beverly!"

"He prefers to be called B, actually," I say.

Chris smirks. "You think so? Hey Beverly, if you want me to keep calling you Beverly, don't say anything!"

B rolls his eyes and pulls a wrench out of his coat.

"See?" Chris says. "B–"

The wrench hits Chris in the back of the head. Chris gets up, rubbing his head where he was hit.

"Point taken," Chris says bitterly. "I suppose I can't make the challenge something the viewers will actually want to see, so, B's going to give you the instructions."

"But B doesn't talk!" Nazz says.

"Oh yeah," Chris says. He cackles. "I guess that'll be a problem, huh. Oh, and before I go do host stuff elsewhere, I just want to let everyone know that today's challenge is a reward challenge!"

That could be a problem. Allowing the paranoia to fester on our team isn't a good thing. Dale is getting suspicious, and so is Ruby. If this keeps up, there's no way the team will keep itself together, and if I want to make it past the merge I _need_ us to win at least some challenges. Ideally we'd drop another player and then cruise through to the merge. A reward challenge is just going to increase tension.

B stares after Chris as Chris walks away and shakes his head, looking annoyed. He then turns to us and mimes using a hammer on a plank of wood.

"Crush moose and squirrel!" Boris yells. B looks at him, disturbed, and then resumes hammering more insistently. He then moves over about half a foot and starts hammering again.

I know what he's suggesting. I doubt they'll let us do it on TV. It's just too messed up. Even for this show.

"Crucifixion?" I guess.

B stares at me, jaw dropped.

"You want us to build something?" Ruby asks.

B looks over to her and nods, mouth still open. He then mimes using a pump with both hands flat.

"We build an air-powered rocket!" Numbuh Two says. B shakes his head.

"Crush moose and squirrel with whatever we build!" Boris says. B squeezes his eyes tightly shut, shakes his head again, and mimes pumping again.

"We have to perform CPR?" Aunt Grandma asks. B signals that she's close and makes the gesture again.

"We have to rescue someone with our machines?" Ingrid asks. B nods and then points behind us. We turn around and see that behind each cabin is a huge pile of various junk.

* * *

We gather behind our pile of junk, away from the Predictable Reboots.

"Okay, for this challenge, we need somebody who has experience building things to lead the way," Aunt Grandma says. Dale tips his hat back and grins. "Naturally, I'm the one who's done the most building in my life."

"What?" Dale asks. "I've done a lot more building!"

Aunt Grandma raises an eyebrow. "I _sincerely_ doubt that. Now, we'll need to build some kind of rescue machine, so as I see it there are three types of rescues we might have to pull off: one above ground, one underground, and one underwater."

"What about something involving wild animals?" I ask. "Chris likes wild animals."

"Chris isn't giving us the challenge," Aunt Grandma says harshly. "This Beverly person is."

"B," Ruby corrects.

"What?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"He prefers to be called B," Ruby says.

"Whatever!" Aunt Grandma says. "That's not important. What is important is that we have to choose one."

"Why not more than one?" I ask. "There's gotta be something we could use for all three."

Aunt Grandma puts a finger to her chin and thinks about it. Her eyes light up. "Yes! We build an automatic ladder that can extend itself."

"Uh, how is that supposed to help?" Dale asks. "And how will we even build one?"

"Leave that to me," Aunt Grandma says. "You two, just do what I tell you. Ruby, I need you to pull a bunch of metal poles out of that pile of junk." She reaches behind her and drags out a motor. "This is going to come in handy."

Ruby heads into the pile and begins hunting. After a short period, she tosses out four ten-foot metal poles.

"Good!" Aunt Grandma says, bringing them over to us. "You two, attach two of these together with the rubber strips. Then get the other two attached to each other."

"Why?" Dale asks suspiciously.

"Just do as your Aunt Grandma says," Aunt Grandma says.

We get to work, and Aunt Grandma moves away and starts hunting in the pile too. I'm good at working with tools. You have to be when doing practical science. Not that the science Dr. Weird had me do was ever practical. It was always completely insane. If there's one thing I don't regret, it's getting out of there. I just wish I'd left sooner, before my mind completely broke under the strain of working for him. I'm better now. Or I think I am. But sanity is just a state of mind.

"So..." Dale says after a few minutes. "About what we were talking about yesterday..."

"Yeah?" I ask. I know where he's going with this.

"Aunt Grandma or Ruby has to be the one running the game, right?" he asks.

"Running the game?" I ask.

"You know!" Dale says. "We talked about this yesterday!"

"Oh, right," I say. "Are they really running the game, though?"

"Maybe not running," Dale says. "But they're definitely impacting the vote."

"Uh-huh," I say. "Didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

"Yeah," Dale says. "But listen. If we know that they're the ones to get rid of, we can vote them out."

Huh. This could be useful.

"So you're thinking that the next time we lose..." I prompt.

"We vote out Aunt Grandma," he says. "She's the strongest one on the team, and she's kind of, well, completely nuts."

"She's also probably our best chance at winning," I say. And I need that. "So we should probably keep her on. Plus, didn't you say Ruby has been lying all this time?"

"You're right," Dale says. "We have to vote Ruby out."

"Then it's settled," I say. "If, y'know, you're sure."

"I'm sure," Dale says. "Ruby's been lying about voting herself out. It's time for us to do the same."

A clatter comes from behind us. We spin around.

"Y-you really think I've been lying?" Ruby asks, voice quavering. Tears spring to her eyes. "I thought you were my friends!"

Ruby runs off. Aunt Grandma comes out from behind the pile with some planks of wood and lengths of chain.

"Good, you've finished attaching the poles," she says. "Now–wait, where's Ruby?"

"She took off after Dale said he thought she was lying," I say.

"WHAT?" Aunt Grandma shrieks. She looks at Dale. She's immensely angry. "WHAT! DID! YOU! SAY!"

"I–I–" Dale stammers.

"Nevermind!" Aunt Grandma yells. "I'll take care of this! You two, attach more poles! Keep both sides even!"

Aunt Grandma storms off. Dale looks at me, jaw dropped.

"Why'd you tell her that?" he asks.

I shrug. "Sorry. I couldn't think of a lie."

Dale shakes his head and bitterly goes back to work. I do too. Sorry Dale, but you're the weakest member of our team, and you're too nosy for your own good. If I can make you the most reviled person on our team, it would make sense for you to go home next. This just happened to be the easiest way to do it.

* * *

We're nearly done attaching the poles together when Aunt Grandma joins us and begins attaching the lengths of chain to the ladder. As she does, she rants at us.

"I can't believe you'd say that around her!" Aunt Grandma complains. "Do you know what things are like in our cabin? She's already been worried that nobody votes for her! Now you say that you don't trust her? That you think she's lying? That she's not your friend? Are you people insane?" She links another chain to the engine. "I've spent all this time voting for her and trying to get her off the island, and you two betray her?"

"I didn't!" Dale says.

"SHUT UP!" Aunt Grandma yells. "You think I want to deal with a team that doesn't know how to shut up and support each other? Of course not! And then you decide to just mess things up further. Do you _want_ us to lose? Is that it?"

Dale doesn't say anything. Aunt Grandma violently attaches another two chains and wipes her brow.

"Now let's hammer in the rungs and get this over with," she says. "I want to win already."

* * *

We finish and bring our ladder over to B. The Formulas are already there. B looks our creation over and gives up a thumbs-up before walking away and signaling for us to follow. We grab our machine and the Formulas grab theirs, some sort of multi-armed digging machine. B leads us to the beach and suddenly stops. He turns to face us and points straight down.

"He's buried down there?" Ingrid asks.

B nods.

"Let's get to work," Numbuh Two says.

The Formulas wheel their machine over and turn it on. It begins digging, and keeps going until it hits solid wood. B signals for them to stop the machine. They do. He pulls a remote with one button out of his coat and presses the button.

Slowly, a large wooden crate rises out of the ground until it's on the same level as we are.


	14. The Famemonger

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

"Well would you look at that!" Chris boomed, walking up to us. "The Predictable Formulas win. And what did you win, you might ask?"

Silence greeted his words.

"I _said_ , you might ask?" Chris prompted.

Nazz rolled her eyes. "What's in the box, Chris?"

"Why, it's your–" Chris said, knocking on the side of the box. The side of the crate facing us fell open. "–all-new team member, of course!"

Andy stepped forward, looking nervous.

"As for you guys," Chris said, turning to us, "you're gonna be sending someone home tonight."

 _an autoimmune disorder occurs when the body's immune system malfunctions and attacks perfectly healthy tissues and systems_

"WHAT?" I complained, outraged. "You said this was a reward challenge!"

"It is!" Chris said. "And they won the reward. Plus you'll notice I never said this _wasn't_ an elimination challenge."

"This is totally unfair!" I complained.

"I know," Chris said. He grinned. "And it's _totally_ hilarious."

"But–but–" I sputtered.

"Now you've got about half the day left," Chris continued, "so I guess you should go get on each other's nerves some more. Rustle up a bit more drama, y'know?"

Chris turned and left. All of us stayed there, watching as Andy walked over and joined the Predictable Formulas.

"So, uh, nice to meet you all?" Andy said awkwardly.

Silence greeted him.

"Um, nice to have you on our team," Nazz finally said.

"Yeah," Andy said. "So uh, is there like a cabin for us?"

The Predictable Formulas headed off to their cabin awkwardly. I decided to do the same.

* * *

 _moralization of the ideas of guilt and duty represents a determined attempt to invert the normal order of development or at least to stop it in_

"Are you okay?"

I looked up. Ruby was staring at me sympathetically.

"I'm fine," I said curtly. Softening my tone, I said, "Are you okay? You seemed pretty upset during the challenge today."

"I know, I..." Ruby said before trailing off. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Ruby paused for a few seconds. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay," I said. "But if you need someone to talk to, well, I'm here for you."

Ruby shut her eyes. Her lips quivered.

"Why doesn't anybody like me?" she asked quietly.

Okay, Aunt Grandma. You have to play this one correctly. If you say the right thing, you end up with an ally. If you say the wrong thing...she's still probably going to want to leave the island. So just go for it.

"I don't know," I said.

"Do you like me?" she asked.

Shit.

"Not really," I say bluntly. "I mean, I don't hate you, but I'm just here to win."

Ruby nods, keeping her eyes tightly shut, and then walks out of the cabin stiffly.

That could have gone worse.

* * *

Dinner was a tense affair. Nobody said anything at our table. Dale was eying me and Ruby suspiciously, Ruby wasn't looking at anybody, and Steve was keeping his head down and trying to avoid suspicion. All in all, it was one of the more pleasant dinners I've had here, if you discount the food.

The more interesting thing that was happening was on the other side of the mess hall. There, Boris was chatting with Numbuh Two and Ingrid, while Nazz sat by herself and Andy was seated away from her and close to the rest of the team. Still, while I examined them, Andy seemed to be locked out of the loop, being virtually ignored by everyone at his table.

That made me feel a little bit better. Sure, we were about to be down five-three, and that two-person advantage would probably let them win every challenge from now on, but at least they weren't perfect. There had to be some dysfunction on that team, although the likelihood that any of us could exploit it was probably nil. Still, there was some hope for me if I could just make it past the merge. The only question was how I would pull that off.

I had admittedly been voting for Ruby up until this point. After all, if somebody wants to sacrifice themselves for you, the only sane thing to do is let them. But now I'm not so sure that's a good strategy. After all, Ruby is still here, even though everyone claims they're voting her off. Instead, they seem to be taking out the most dangerous threats, which means that obviously I might as well join in.

Not to mention the fact that Dale might be right. Ruby is probably lying about voting herself off, and playing the rest of us for patsies. If that's the case–and I'm becoming more and more convinced that it is–she's done an admirable job of keeping herself out of the line of fire by placing herself directly in it. It's an insane strategy, admittedly, but it seems to have paid off.

So why not make it work for me? If nobody's going to vote Ruby off, I might as well chose somebody to get rid of.

Steve. Let's think about him for a minute. He may be tougher than he seems. He mostly seems to be keeping his head down, and this might help him go all the way. But on the other hand, he's pretty weak. Dale is weak too, but he's got friends on the other side and he made it pretty far last time. Plus, Dale managed to make Ruby cry and run off in the middle of the challenge, and he's the one who made her unhappy. Not only that, but I get the sense that he's too nosy for his own good. Keeping him around doesn't seem to have any upside and plenty of downside.

* * *

We were all sitting around the campfire when a seven-foot tall woman with long blonde hair walked up to the podium where the marshmallows were waiting. She grinned at us, revealing that her teeth were sharp and jagged.

"Hel-lo, new campers!" she said perkily. "I'm Dakota Milton, and I'm going to be your campfire ceremony host tonight! Although I can't say it's nice to be back on the island, I can say that it's nice to be back on camera again!" She smiled and waved to the camera. "Now let's talk about you guys. None of you seem to be doing particularly well. Aunt Grandma, everybody thinks you're bossy and untrustworthy."

 _a burst blood vessel is extremely treacherous, and one in the brain much more so as it can impair cognitive function, respiration, and circulation_

"Dale, you're suspicious of everyone, but that's made everyone suspicious of you, too. Ruby, you claim that you're voting yourself out, but the fact that you're still on the island has probably led many of your teammates to doubt your claims. And Steve, you're the weakest member of the team and you've thus far contributed the least. But you all have a chance to stay in. Aunt Grandma, despite your alienating personality, you're the strongest member of the Overthought Reboots when it comes to pure strength and you seem to have mostly avoided making fierce enemies. Dale, although you managed to make Ruby cry and perhaps lost the game for your team, you seem to have an ace in the hole and some reassurance that you won't lose this vote. Ruby, you may have made everyone believe that voting for you is a waste of time, and that they have to take out other players instead of you. And Steve...you're getting the first marshmallow!"

Dakota hurled the marshmallow at Steve. It slammed into his face and knocked him backwards, and Steve slid on his back until he slammed into a tree. Dakota cringed.

"Sorry!" she called after him before turning back to us. "The next one goes to...Ruby!"

Ruby ducked, and the marshmallow sailed over her head and split a tree in half. Dakota winced again.

"Okay, so, two of you left," she said. "Let's just see who it goes to, shall we? It's between Dale and Aunt Grandma. One of them got a single vote. The other one got two votes. Which one is which?"

 _"Priscilla why aren't you ready yet"_

 _"it's time to go Priscilla"_

 _"i can't believe it you always do this"_

 _"you're never ready when it's time to go"_

 _"don't give me any lip young lady"_

 _"you woke up five minutes ago you should be fully dressed"_

 _"i don't care if you say you're tired you power through it"_

 _"it's already five thirty-six"_

 _"get moving you lazy girl"_

 _"what kind of a disappointing daughter am i even raising anyway"_

"Aunt Grandma!" Dakota proclaimed and hurled the marshmallow at me. It slammed into my face and knocked me backwards. Reacting quickly, I reached out, grabbed a branch, rotated around it three times and landed neatly on the ground. I perfunctorily brushed myself off and grinned cockily.

"What?" Dale sputtered. "I can't be going home! I still have so much to do! Like find out who's really behind this! This breaks every rule of the mystery! It's unfair!"

"Are you done?" Chef asked gruffly.

Dale took one look at the large man and shut his mouth. "Yeah," he admitted.

"Good, then let's go," Chef said.

Chris walked up to the podium and shoved Dakota out of the way. "One player joins the cast, and another camper gets sent home! Who will win the next challenge? Who will go home next? And who will our next returning contestants be? Find out, next time, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Incredibly Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Ruby Gloom: Ruby Gloom  
Dale Gribble: Aunt Grandma  
Steve: Dale Gribble  
Aunt Grandma: Dale Gribble

Final tally of votes cast:

Dale Gribble: 2  
Ruby Gloom: 1  
Aunt Grandma: 1


	15. The Lady in Red

**Enter...  
BORIS BADENOV**

I woke up before anyone else. It's because I've had a lot on my mind. I'm a nervous sleeper at the best of times, and while being backstabbed is something I'm used to–heck, it's something I excel at–this place doesn't quite remind me of home. Not least because some of the people you'd expect to backstab you are genuinely sincere about how you can trust them. Of course, I expect everyone to backstab me, so that shouldn't matter, but it does. It matters a lot.

As long as we're being honest–unusual for me, I know, but as long as we're being honest, I feel...ashamed, almost? Not shame, but a feeling that I messed up by getting rid of Wendy. Of course she was the obvious choice; it got rid of what was sure to be a pain in my neck later on in the game and allowed me to get more insight into Nazz. That's actually something I find interesting. Nazz's style of play was what I expected to do, only she pulled it off much better than I expected. Perhaps always going about in the villain disguise had something to do with that, but regardless, I was impressed at how Nazz managed to play everyone up until the finale. Not that I'm surprised Ingrid figured it out. She's a very smart girl, after all. But Nazz kept everybody's eyes off of her up until she was forced to get rid of Wendy.

I admit it, I had an ulterior motive. Hey, when do I not? But the opportunity to pick Nazz's brain never arose because of that nitwit Snidely. For somebody who was too idiotic to keep his secret alliance secret, he did a good job of making sure Nazz and I were never alone. He was always hanging around one of us, usually me. I still can't believe that I found five minutes alone where I could slip a note into Numbuh Two's suitcase telling him what I had planned. So by the time I managed to get Nazz alone to talk to her, there was a more pressing matter than her abilities at subterfuge, and now that Snidely's off the island, chances are I'll never get to find out about her strategies.

Still, I can't live in the past. Sure, that's a missed opportunity, but I fear that I may have accidentally opened the door to something worse. I was already going to be on the outside of Numbuh Two and Ingrid's friendship, especially since I'm more Numbuh Two's friend than Ingrid's friend. And now, with how I did something they weren't expecting at all and kept Snidely and Nazz on the island longer than they expected, well, when they have to get rid of somebody, that somebody will be me. It's enough to make me wonder if I should stab them in the back now and team up with Nazz and Andy.

Of course, that assumes that Nazz and Andy will team up. It's just as likely that if I turn on Ingrid and Numbuh Two, Andy will join them in my place and I'll be gone soon enough. And as soon as we reach the merge, I'm pretty sure everybody will be targeting Nazz. She doesn't seem like such a bad person to me, but she doesn't exactly have the best reputation. And once she goes, I probably go, _if_ I align with her.

The big problem is that I don't have a clear path to winning. Being on the same side as Numbuh Two and Ingrid probably gives me the best chance of going far, but then they form a barrier to the finale. The only conclusion I can come to is that I need more allies and probably an alternate route, but I also need to find a way to get them without cutting myself off from Ingrid and Numbuh Two.

* * *

"Alright campers, it's time to wake up!" a female voice said over the loudspeakers. "It's a beautiful day, and you've got a beautiful host for today's challenge, so get yourselves dressed and get down to the cafeteria for breakfast. Trust me, you're gonna need a lot of mental energy for today's challenge."

The woman cackled and shut off the loudspeakers. I sat up in bed, rubbing my bleary eyes. I had fallen asleep again, and I actually felt more tired.

I struggled to my feet and began throwing on my clothes.

"Hey, buddy," Andy said. I looked up at him. He was trying to look sympathetic. "You doing okay?"

"I didn't get a good night's sleep," I admitted. "How about you?"

"I slept just fine," Andy said. "What's keeping you up, anyway?"

"Everything under the sun," I lied. I finished lacing up my shoes and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait up," Numbuh Two said.

"Sure thing, buddy," I said, heading back and taking a seat on my bed as Numbuh Two fastened his ever-present goggles. He grinned at me.

"Ready?" I asked.

"For breakfast?" Numbuh Two asked. "Always."

We headed out together, leaving Andy hunting for his pants.

* * *

When we got to the mess hall, we found that the table had already been set. There was a bowl of oatmeal for each of us and platters of fresh fruit sitting all around.

"Good morning!" a blonde woman sitting by the kitchen singsonged. "I'm Blaineley Stacey Andrews O'Halloran, and _I'm_ going to be your host today. Please, enjoy the fruit and oatmeal. I had it ordered special."

Chef, standing next to her, nodded. "It's good. Trust me."

I sat down in front of a bowl of oatmeal, picked up the spoon next to it, and took a bite. The food was delicious, just as Blaineley had claimed. I quickly went through most of my bowl before grabbing a bunch of grapes and eating them. The grapes were perfect, and I washed them down with a glass of water. I followed this up with the rest of my oatmeal, a pear, more grapes, and some cherries.

When I had finished, I smiled and sat back, satisfied. It was then that I realized that I might have made a big mistake. Every time something on this show has seemed like it's going to be good for us, it's always ended up not being the case. The food might be poisoned, or we might be doing something where a full stomach is a liability, or–

"Is everyone finished?" Blaineley asked. Nobody responded. "Good! In that case..."

Blaineley pressed a button on a remote, and the tables and benches disappeared. We fell towards the ground, but instead of falling all the way, we were caught by stockades. They spun around, and soon my team was facing down the Overthought Reboots. Blaineley stood in the middle of us.

"Well, well, well, it's challenge time!" Blaineley said. "And this challenge is a little game I like to call 'Know Your Enemy.'" A carnival wheel popped up behind her, with eight slots on it, each slot bearing one of our faces. "It's a very simple game. I spin the wheel, and whomever it lands on gets a question. If they answer it right, they get a point. The catch? The question will be about one member of the opposing team. And it may just embarrass whomever it's about. If you get three points, you win. But everyone on a team has to get three points to win the game."

"Are you serious?" Nazz complained. "They only have to get nine answers right to win, but we have to get fifteen answers?"

"Oh, like you have it bad!" Aunt Grandma scoffed. "You have a one-in-three chance of getting it right. We only have a one-in-five chance!"

"Stop complaining," Blaineley said. "Because let me tell you, I'm not going to change the challenge. I might change some _questions_...is there anyone who wants to have even _more_ of their most embarrassing secrets aired on international TV?"

Everybody instantly shut up.

"Good," Blaineley said. "Now let's spin the wheel!"

Blaineley stepped over to the wheel and gave it a spin. It went around and around and around before finally slowing to a stop and settling on Andy's face.

"Andy!" Blaineley declared. She picked up an index card and read it. She grinned. "Which of your opponents has been most intimate with their boss?"

"I dunno, the redhead?" Andy said flippantly.

Blaineley's smile disappeared. "They're _all_ redheads."

"Fine, Aunt Grandma?" Andy guessed.

"Wrong!" Blaineley said cheerfully. "Next question!"

Blaineley spun the wheel. It landed on Andy's face again, and Blaineley picked up the next card.

"Which of your opponents had a formative experience involving hacky sack?" Blaineley asked.

"Me?" Andy guessed.

"Incorrect!" Blaineley said. "It has to be one of your opponents."

"Well, I mean, I am technically my own biggest opponent," Andy admitted.

Blaineley rolled her eyes and spun the wheel again. It landed on Ingrid.

"Ingrid!" Blaineley said. "Who has a cat?"

Ingrid looked confused. "How would I know that?"

Blaineley looked at her blankly. "Are you going to take a shot, or what?"

"Steve?" Ingrid guessed.

"Wrong!" Blaineley said cheerfully. "And after three questions for the Predictable Formulas, nobody has a single point. Let's spin again and see who gets the next question!"

Blaineley spun the wheel. It landed on Nazz.

"Which of your opponents lasted longest in the game last time?" Blaineley asked.

Nazz thought for a few seconds. "Steve," she said.

"Finally, we have a correct answer!" Blaineley said. "One point!"

She spun the wheel again and brought up Steve.

"Which camper hails from Peach Creek?" she asked.

"Nazz," Steve said quickly.

"Correct!" Blaineley said. "Now let's spin again!"

Ingrid came up.

"Ingrid, which of your opponents built robot duplicates of themselves?" Blaineley asked.

"Steve," Ingrid said without much hesitation.

"WRONG!" Blaineley yelled. "Geez, and I thought you were supposed to be good at this detective work stuff. Turns out, not so much."

Another spin. It landed on Andy.

"Which of your opponents is the happiest girl in the world?" Blaineley read.

"Ruby," Andy said sarcastically.

"Right!" Blaineley said.

"Wait, really?" Andy asked, shocked.

Blaineley shrugged. "It had to happen sometime. But that gets you a point, and the Predictable Formulas lead two points to one on six out of seven questions!"

Blaineley spun the wheel again. It stopped on Nazz.

"Who was once put in charge of a World's Fair?" Blaineley asked.

"Aunt Grandma?" Nazz guessed.

Blaineley shook her head. "Sorry, but no. C'mon, people! Start getting these questions right! There's only so much time in this episode, and I need to fill it with Blainerificness. Less focus on you, more focus on me! Now let's go!"

She spun the wheel again, and it landed on Steve.

"Which of your opponents was an officer of the law?" Blaineley asked.

"Ingrid," Steve said quickly.

"Correct!" Blaineley said. "And Steve has singlehandedly tied the game! That's how you do it, folks."

Blaineley spun the wheel again. It stopped on Nazz's face.

"Who once shared a workspace with a robotic rabbit?" Blaineley asked.

"Steve?" Nazz guessed.

"That's right!" Blaineley said. "Next question!"

She spun the wheel. It landed on Steve again.

"Steve!" Blaineley said. "For your third point, which one of your opponents has been to outer space?"

Steve looked completely baffled. "Boris?"

No.

"Nope!" Blaineley said. She spun again, and it landed on Ingrid. "Ingrid, which camper helped get Andy eliminated the first time around?"

Andy looked uncomfortable. Ingrid thought for a few seconds and then said "Ruby."

"Correct!" Blaineley said. "Ooh, sorry Andy. Is that an uncomfortable memory?"

"Yes," Andy snapped.

"Good!" Blaineley said. "We're all about the pain in this game."

She spun the wheel again. This time, it landed on Andy.

"So, Andy, now it's your turn to dish some dirt," Blaineley said. She picked up a card and frowned. "Which one of your opponents got a loft apartment for free?"

Andy scoffed. "None of them. Nobody gets an apartment for free."

"One of your opponents did," Blaineley said. "But hey, if you don't want to earn any points that's your business. You can go right ahead and make your team lose."

Andy's eyes widened in fright. Blaineley grinned and spun the wheel again.

"Nazz!" she proclaimed, picking up a card. "For three points and a win for yourself, who had to fight robotic bears to get here?"

"Aunt Grandma?" Nazz suggested.

"Right!" Blaineley said. "Congratulations on being the first one to get three answers right."

Nazz wiggled in her stockade. "So can you let me go now?"

"Nope!" Blaineley said. "You're stuck there until one team wins. But if you come up again, you _do_ get to choose who gets a question in your place."

Nazz frowned. "But I'm stuck like this?"

"Yep!" Blaineley said perkily, spinning the wheel. It landed on my face.

"So, Boris," Blaineley said, "which player do you think has gotten the least overall focus?"

Let's see. None of them went very far last time. But Aunt Grandma was the first one to be booted on our team.

"Aunt Grandma," I said confidently.

"WRONG!" Blaineley yelled. "No points! Next question!"

The wheel landed on Aunt Grandma.

"Which of your opponents is most likely to get the boot next time they lose?" Blaineley asked.

"Nazz," Aunt Grandma said.

"That's right!" Blaineley said. "You get a point. That leaves your team only six right answers away from the win."

Nazz looked worried. Blaineley spun again. Once again, Aunt Grandma's face came up.

"Who is worst-equipped to win this season?" Blaineley asked.

"Well, given his relative newness, the fact that he was in a so-called secret alliance last season, the fact that he doesn't have much in the way of abilities, and that he's not very well known or liked by any of us, I'd have to say the answer is Andy, "Aunt Grandma said.

"Fascinating," Blaineley said dryly. "Next time, just give us his name, okay?"

"Do I get the point or not?" Aunt Grandma snapped.

"Two points for Aunt Grandma," Blaineley said boredly, spinning the wheel again. It landed on me.

"Who on the other side has the worst singing voice?" she asked.

Well, Steve and Ruby were both the final players left in the musical challenge. It has to be Aunt Grandma.

"Aunt Grandma," I said.

"Nope," Blaineley said, shaking her head. She spun the wheel again.

"Numbuh Two, who owns their own customized vehicle?" she asked.

"Aunt Grandma?" Numbuh Two said.

"Correct!" Blaineley said. "Who knows, we might actually finish this before the sun goes down." She spun again, and it landed on me.

"Who likes their sandwiches without mayonnaise?" she asked.

I don't have a clue.

"Steve," I said.

"Finally, you get a point," Blaineley said.

She spun again. Andy.

"Which of your opponents is fueled mainly by spite and hatred?" Blaineley asked.

"Aunt Grandma?" Andy suggested.

"That's right," Blaineley said. "Two points for Andy, and the Predictable Formulas are closing in on a win!"

Blaineley spun the wheel again. It landed on Nazz's face.

"Alright, Nazz," Blaineley said. "Who do you want to put on the spot?"

Nazz thought for a few seconds and then said "Andy."

"Andy it is!" Blaineley said. "Alright, Andy, for your third point...which camper has the most friends?"

Andy's face wrinkled up. "Ruby?" he guessed.

"That's correct!" Blaineley said. "And with three points on the board for Andy, the Predictable Formulas are just three players away from a win! You'd better watch out, Reboots."

She spun the wheel again and it landed on Andy. Blaineley shrugged.

"Andy, who do you want to answer this question?"

"Ingrid?" Andy suggested.

"Ingrid!" Blaineley exclaimed. "Which of your opponents is secretly villainous?"

"Ruby?" Ingrid guessed.

"Wrong!" Blaineley said. She spun the wheel again. This time, it landed on Ruby. "Ruby, who once had a–"

"HEY!" Chris barked. He strode in, looking angry and disheveled. "What's the big idea, Blaineley?"

"Why whatever do you mean, Chris?" Blaineley asked, obviously faking innocence.

Chris sputtered. "Chef tied me up and stuck me in a broom closet! And I _know_ you told him to!"

"How's that?" Blaineley asked.

"Because he said you told him to when he shoved me in the closet!" Chris yelled.

"Okay, but that's just circumstantial evidence," Blaineley said. "Do you really think I'd order him to tie you up and stuff you in a closet just so I could show how much better a host I am?"

"YES!" Chris yelled.

"Would and did!" Blaineley said. "And not only was it hilarious, but I am doing pretty much the best job of hosting this game that anyone has ever seen! Now get off my stage, I have a challenge to finish running."

"No way!" Chris said. "You are going to–"

"Contract," Blaineley reminded him.

Chris scowled. "You'll pay for this."

"No, I don't think I will," Blaineley said. "And besides, having you tied up was hilarious." She turned back to us. "Where were we?"

"You were asking me a question," Ruby said.

"That's right!" Blaineley said. "Ruby, who once had a job at a mattress store?"

Ruby thought about it. "Andy?"

"That's correct," Blaineley said. "And now all the Overthought Reboots are on the board and four right answers away from winning. Next question goes to..." she spun the wheel. "Aunt Grandma! Who was so lazy, their obstacle in the corridor was a television, a bag of Bugles, and a bottle of malt liquor?"

"Andy," Aunt Grandma said.

"That's correct, and the Overthought Reboots have their first three-question winner!" Blaineley said. "Next question!"

She spun the wheel. It landed on Aunt Grandma again.

"Give it to Steve," Aunt Grandma said.

"Alrighty then," Blaineley said. "Steve, there is a three-person alliance on the other team. Who is the player most likely to get kicked out of it?"

Steve looked baffled. "Boris?" he finally suggested.

He's right. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm not exactly in the strongest possible position.

"That's correct!" Blaineley said. "And that leaves Ruby as the only player left on the Overthought Reboots who still needs to answer questions! Meanwhile, the Predictable Formulas have three players left! And the next question will go to..."

Blaineley spun the wheel. It whirled around and finally stopped on Ingrid's face.

"Ingrid!" Blaineley said. "Which camper on the opposing team likes listening to radio dramas?"

"Steve?" Ingrid guessed.

"Wrong!" Blaineley said. "Next player!"

She spun the wheel. It landed on Numbuh Two.

"Who lives in New Jersey?" Blaineley asked.

"Steve?" Numbuh Two said.

"Correct!" Blaineley said, spinning the wheel. It landed on Numbuh Two again. "Works for me, this just keeps things moving. Now, Numbuh Two, who placed second in a science fair as a child?"

Aunt Grandma snarled and looked visibly angry.

"Aunt Grandma?" Numbuh Two said nervously.

"And that's three points for Numbuh Two!" Blaineley exclaimed. "The Predictable Formulas only have two players left, but they have to answer four questions correctly, while Ruby only has to get two right answers. Who's gonna be next? Let's find out!"

Blaineley spun the wheel. It stopped on Numbuh Two again. Blaineley sighed.

"Alright, Numbuh Two, you know the drill," she said wearily. "Who do you want to give the question to?"

Numbuh Two looked between me and Ingrid. Ingrid nodded.

"Ingrid," he said.

"Fine," Blaineley said. "Ingrid, who is trying to get herself voted off?"

"Oh come on!" Aunt Grandma complained. "That's the easiest question possible!"

Blaineley grinned. "Sorry, but I make no promises about the difficulty of the questions. Now, Ingrid?"

"Ruby," Ingrid said.

"That's right!" Blaineley said. "Look out, Reboots, the Formulas are catching up!" She spun the wheel again and it landed on Steve. "Now, Ruby, who is a published cartoonist?"

"Wait!" Steve interjected. "Don't I have to say who the question is going to?"

Blaineley rolled her eyes. "There's only one option, so no. No you don't. Ruby?"

"Numbuh Two?" Ruby suggested.

"Nope!" Blaineley said, spinning the wheel again. It settled on Aunt Grandma. "Ruby, who is the deciding vote on the Predictable Formulas?"

"Numbuh Two?" Ruby guessed.

No way. I'm the deciding vote. They don't have a majority without me.

"Correct!" Blaineley said. "And with that, the Overthought Reboots are one question away from winning the challenge. Will they get that question next?"

Blaineley spun the wheel. It landed on me.

"Which camper likes to cook?" Blaineley asked.

I can't see Aunt Grandma as somebody who enjoys much of anything, so maybe it's her? On the other hand, Ruby might just enjoy cooking. I can't tell. All I know is it's probably not Steve.

"Ruby?" I guess.

"That's right!" Blaineley said. She spun the wheel again and it landed on Steve.

Darn it!

"Ruby, this might just be the last question of the game," Blaineley said. "Are you ready?"

Ruby nodded as well as she could in the stockade. "I am."

"Then tell me, which of your opponents was fat as a kid?" Blaineley asked.

Ruby stared straight ahead like a deer caught in headlights.

"None of them?" she finally said nervously.

"Nope!" Blaineley said. "It was definitely one of them."

Ruby sighed. "Sorry, guys, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Spin the wheel, Blaineley."

"With pleasure!" Blaineley said. She spun the wheel, and it landed on Ingrid.

"Ingrid, if you get this question right, you leave Boris having to answer just one question. It would be anybody's game," Blaineley said. "Now, your question is...who has a neighbor that designs amusement park rides?"

Ingrid swallowed. "Ruby?"

"That's right!" Blaineley said. She spun the wheel. It stopped with the arrow pointing at Andy.

"Boris!" Blaineley said. "For the win, just answer this question. Which one of your opponents refused to agitate a snake with a stick?"

It has to be Ruby. Ruby was afraid of hurting anybody's feelings. There's no way she'd hurt a snake, even if it was about to bite her.

"Ruby," I said confidently.

"WRONG!" Blaineley declared.

How could it not be Ruby?

Blaineley spun the wheel. It stopped with the arrow pointing at Aunt Grandma. Blaineley picked up the next index card.

"Ruby, tell me, who won Total Drama last time?" she asked.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Nazz complained loudly. "That's the easiest question possible!"

"Yeah, what the heck?" Numbuh Two said. "Everybody knows it was Ingrid!"

"Was it, Ruby?" Blaineley asked.

"Yes," Ruby said.

"And that's that, folks!" Blaineley announced, turning to face the main camera. "The Overthought Reboots win this one, and the Predictable Formulas will head to the voting booth to kick somebody off tonight! Who's it gonna be? Find out, when we come back, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"


	16. The Nice Guy Gamer

The stockades unlocked and let their captives out. They rubbed their wrists and necks feverishly as they tried to shake the cricks out of their backs when they were finally allowed to stand up straight. Chris walked up to Blaineley.

"You know, I didn't think I'd say this, but you did a pretty good job hosting," Chris said.

Blaineley laughed. "Of course I did. I'm Blainerific."

"Honestly, I'd love it if we could keep you around so you could do a bit more hosting," Chris said. "Maybe I could even learn a thing or two from you?"

"I'm flattered, but are you sure about this? I might just take your job, seeing as how I'm a fantastic host," Blaineley said.

"The pleasure of watching you work is well worth it," Chris said.

"Then I accept," Blaineley said. "It will be an honor to host Total Drama."

"Yes it will," Chris said. "Which is why you're not going to get to do it."

Blaineley's eyes flew open and her mouth formed a surprised O.

"Yeah, see, you're a crappy host who tied me up and threw me in a closet," Chris said casually. "You actually think you're going to get anywhere near the host position? Not a chance! Chef?"

Chef grinned, grabbed Blaineley, and threw her into a wooden crate. The top of the crate fell shut and locked itself, leaving Blaineley to pound on its' sides and scream for help. Chris turned to the Predictable Formulas.

"Well, now that that's over, you guys have like a full eight hours to stew over who you're gonna kick out," he said. "Have fun with that. Meanwhile, Overthought Reboots, for winning the challenge, we've got a special treat for you. Lunch at the crew's setup! You'll be eating well this afternoon–and you'll need to, since tonight Chef is making his special tuna-and-tomato dinner of disgust!" He cackled. "Yeah. Chew on that. If you can."

Chris started to walk off, and the Overthought Reboots followed.

"Hey, Chris!" Chef called. "Shouldn't we do something about Blaineley?"

"Why?" Chris asked. "She ain't going anywhere."

Chef cast a dubious glance at the screaming crate, shrugged, and headed off to get lunch.

* * *

Dinner was worse than Chris had implied. The tuna was rotten, the tomatoes were mushy, and they had been baked in a pan that hadn't been cleaned since the Taft administration. There were also lice crawling all over the food–although none of the people attempting to eat noticed this, largely because the lice were the best-tasting part of the meal.

The Overthought Reboots sat at the table that had become theirs. They weren't eating, both because they had filled up at lunch and because the food was genuinely horrible. Their plates sat in front of them, mostly untouched except for Ruby's. Ruby was taking the occasional bite and looking back and forth between her two teammates contemplatively. Her teammates, meanwhile, were staring everywhere but at each other. Steve found himself transfixed by the occasional speck of dirt, while Aunt Grandma shot glances at the rafters and the table.

The Predictable Formulas were also at their table. However, they were clearly split into two groups. One of them consisted of the trio of Ingrid, Boris, and Numbuh Two. The other one was Nazz and Andy. Although Nazz and Andy seemed to have some animosity between them, they were locked out of the main trio, and forced to sit closer to each other than to the other members of their team, who were forgoing any sense of sensitivity and instead discussing the vote right next to Nazz and Andy without even pretending to include them.

"I say we vote off Nazz," Ingrid said through a mouthful of tuna, tomato, and lice. She swallowed heavily and gagged. "She's obviously the biggest threat left."

Boris waved her off. "Please. It should be Andy. Nazz is more useful to the team."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Numbuh Two countered. "If we let her stick around for too long, she might find a way to swing into the finale or get us eliminated."

"How manipulative can she be?" Boris asked. "We all know what her tricks are. Do you really think she'll be able to manipulate everybody else again?"

"Those skills don't go away, you know," Ingrid said. "Just because everyone knows she's manipulative doesn't mean she'll won't be able to get away with it again."

"Yeah," Numbuh Two said. "You have to watch out for snakes."

"Okay, but what use is Andy?" Boris asked. "He was the second one eliminated on our team last time, Numbuh Two!"

"But that's because we managed to break open Snidely's alliance," Numbuh Two pointed out. "He might've stayed on longer."

"Well...okay, maybe," Boris said.

"Look, we know what Nazz is," Ingrid said. "We know what she has going for her and what she has going against her. But we don't know what Andy is. Who knows? Maybe he could be more useful than Nazz."

Boris stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. "You're right. I'm on board."

"Good," Numbuh Two said. "Now does anybody want to eat this glop?"

Ingrid and Boris shook their heads in unison.

"Then if you'll excuse me, I'm done," Numbuh Two said, getting up from the table to toss his food. Ingrid and Boris followed suit. Soon, only five people and Chef were left in the cafeteria.

"So, uh, that was a good breakfast today, wasn't it?" Steve said awkwardly to Aunt Grandma.

"Sure," Aunt Grandma said. "Good breakfast."

"I enjoyed it," Ruby added.

Once again, the Overthought Reboots' table fell silent. There was no noise in the cafeteria as Nazz and Andy stared at each other balefully, except for a faint thumping noise coming from the kitchen.

"So, you wanna hear a joke?" Andy finally said.

Nazz's stare turned to one of inquisitiveness. "What is it?"

"You," Andy said.

Nazz's face hardened. "Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"I think so," Andy said, taking a bite of his meal. His face instantly lost all its' color, and he began hacking and choking. Nazz just stared at him as he tried to perform the Heimlich on himself and eventually managed to discharge the food from his mouth. He then proceeded to pour an entire jug of murky water into his mouth to try and get rid of the taste, only to choke again and end up spending the next minute on the floor, trying to catch his breath. When he finally managed to get up and sit down again, he found Nazz staring at him with the same mildly annoyed expression on her face.

"What?" Andy said defensively.

"That joke was actually funny," Nazz said.

Andy scowled. "Yeah, well, at least not everybody hates me."

"Does anyone like you?" Nazz asked.

"What?" Andy said, surprised. "Well, uh, of course people like me, I'm a likable guy. I've got, uh, I've got friends. Back home. And–"

"Does anybody like you on this island?" Nazz interrupted.

Andy looked at her, mouth agape. "Uh...well..."

"Because, Andy, in case you didn't notice, none of our so-called teammates were particularly fond of you, either," Nazz continued. "In fact, if I remember correctly, Boris wanted to get rid of you."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean anything!" Andy said.

"Keep telling yourself that," Nazz said. "But last time, me and Ingrid outed you as being part of Snidely's alliance."

"So?" Andy asked angrily.

"And this time around, well, as soon as I'm gone, the rest of our team is going to boot you if they lose again. And who's to say that that won't happen, Andy?" Nazz asked. "I don't know how long it is until the merge, but I do know that if it doesn't happen before our team loses, you're on your way home. And even if it does happen before our team loses, I don't think Ruby or Steve thinks very much of you. Face it, Andy. You're a dead man walking."

Andy stared at her for a few seconds, unable to muster a reply.

"Fine," Andy finally spat. "But you're no better. You're going to go home tonight, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Nazz smiled. "Do you really think so, Andy?"

Andy's eyes widened. "You've got a plan."

"A plan to save my skin, yes," Nazz said. "And I'll need your help."

"And why should I help you?" Andy asked. "I'm trying to _shed_ my rep of working with villains, in case you didn't notice."

Nazz shrugged. "Your choice. But you'll go home very, very quickly."

Andy shook his head. "You can't fool me. You need me."

"I do," Nazz said. "But you need me too."

Andy stared at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge her thoughts. Nazz stared right back, steadily holding an impenetrable expression on her face.

Andy caved. "Fine. What's your plan?"

Nazz grinned and beckoned for him to lean in. Andy did so.

"Vote for Boris tonight," she whispered in his ear.

Andy leaned back. "What? Why?"

"Just trust me," Nazz said. "I _did_ make it to the finale last time."

Nazz got up and left without busing her table. Andy stared after her and then did the same. In the kitchen, Chef shook his head.

"Lousy kids!" he complained. "I slave over a hot stove all day, and they can't even be bothered to clear the table! HEY!" he barked at the Overthought Reboots. "Are you done eating yet?"

Aunt Grandma nodded, unimpressed by Chef's demeanor.

"Then clear your plate of the table, and get those plates too!" he demanded.

"Fine," Aunt Grandma said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed the plates, emptied them into the trash, and brought them to the kitchen counter.

"Now the rest of you get out of here!" Chef commanded. "I have a _lot_ of work to do. Go wherever you people go when you're not bugging me!"

Steve and Ruby quickly took off, leaving behind their plates. Chef grumbled as he walked over to the recently-deserted table, picked up the plates, and brought them back to the kitchen.

"So, you want something to eat?" he asked the seemingly empty kitchen. "There's some leftover tuna-and-tomato if you want it."

A muffled banging and some angry noises emitted from the crate. Chef shrugged.

"Fair enough, but you're not getting anything until the boat takes you away," he said. "Probably not until you get shipped back home, actually. Well, g'night!"

Chef walked out of the kitchen, turning off the lights and ignoring the muffled screams coming from the crate.

* * *

Boris was the last one of the guys to head out to vote. He was calmly making his way towards the confessional booth until suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. Acting on instinct, Boris kicked outwith his foot, hitting his assailant in the stomach and causing them to release him. He leapt forward and spun around, drawing his dagger and ready to pounce. After a second, though, a note of doubt entered his eyes.

"Nazz?" he asked, confused.

Nazz coughed and got to her feet. "Geez, you hit hard."

"Of course I do," Boris said. "Now what do you want?"

"You know you'll be on your way out soon, right?" Nazz said.

Boris looked at her questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, after Andy, there won't be anyone ahead of you to push off the island," Nazz said. "And when that happens, Ingrid and Numbuh Two will vote you off."

"I know that," Boris said calmly. "Unless the merge happens first. Which it will."

"Maybe, maybe not," Nazz said. "You don't know what will happen. But even if it does, who's to say that it won't come down to a situation where you're the only option for them?"

"Then that's what will happen," Boris said. "You see, little girl, I'm used to being stabbed in the back. And stabbing others in the back. Knowing that it will happen, and that I can time when it happens? That gives me an advantage. And I am _not_ going to give it up."

"How do you know they'll wait that long?" Nazz asked. "They could vote you out now and use Andy as their patsy to get rid of me. You know he'd suck up to them."

Boris guffawed. "You're clutching at straws. Trust me, Nazz, you're going home tonight, and nothing you say to me will change my vote."

Nazz shrugged. "Whatever you say, Boris."

Nazz pushed past Boris on her way to the voting booth. Boris grinned and followed her.

* * *

Sam walked up to the podium where the marshmallows waited and gently smiled at the campers in front of him.

"Hey, guys," he said cheerfully. "I'm Sam, a former contestant on Revenge of the Island and All-Stars. You know, it's nice to be back here. I actually had a lot of fun competing, although not having video games kinda stunk. Seriously, I had to give up video games all the time I was on the island, so I'm glad I'm not you guys right now. Not that you guys aren't cool!" he added hastily. "And everything's cool here too, I mean, I ended up with this super-hot girlfriend who's like, the most _amazing_ person ever. I think she gave you marshmallows yesterday, you got them from Dakota, right?"

"We weren't here yesterday," Numbuh Two said. "The other guys lost."

"Oh, right," Sam said, smacking his forehead. "Duh! Okay, so maybe you didn't see her, but she's super tall and super strong and super hot. Like, I'm the luckiest guy on the _planet_!"

"Could you just toss the marshmallows already?" Andy asked impatiently.

Sam chuckled. "Right. Yeah, sorry. I forgot I was doing that. Okay, Andy, Numbuh Two, and Ingrid, you're safe."

He tossed them their marshmallows, and Boris smirked at Nazz. Nazz looked worried.

"Now, it was a close vote," Sam said. "And honestly, the results came as a surprise to me, and I'm sure they'll surprise all of you. The last marshmallow is going to...Nazz!"

The campers were all stunned as the marshmallow flew towards Nazz. Nazz let it sail over her head, she was so shocked.

"You're kidding!" Boris finally blurted.

"Yeah, how did Boris lose?" Nazz added, shocked. "I voted for Ingrid!"

"Gee, thanks," Ingrid said sarcastically.

"Thanks? You had to have voted out Boris!" Nazz exclaimed.

"Well let's not jump to conclusions," Boris said, shock slowly giving way to anger. "I mean, there would have to be at least two votes against me...OH YOU DIRTY ROTTEN LYING BACKSTABBERS!"

Boris glared daggers at Ingrid and Numbuh Two.

"Sorry, Boris," Sam said sympathetically. "You're the one going home."

"Or not!" Chris suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere. "Because here's the twist: this was _not_ an elimination challenge!"

All the campers gasped. The only person who didn't seem surprised was Sam.

"That's right!" Chris said. "Nobody is going home tonight...well, except for her."

Chris hitched a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Chef, who was carrying a large wooden crate to the docks with a hand cart. Chef raised a hand and waved to the campers.

"So, tonight, everybody is safe," Chris said. "Well, y'know, unless Boris has a strong reaction to the vote. But what could possibly cause that?" He smirked. "Tune in next time to find out if everybody made it through the night without being maimed. Spoiler alert: probably not."

Chris held the grin for a few seconds and then turned back to his campers. "Alright, go ahead and hit the hay or whatever. Tomorrow's going to be a horrible day for all of you."

"Um, why?" Nazz asked nervously.

Chris grinned wickedly. "Let's just say that tomorrow's special guest let me lend a helping hand when it came to designing the challenges."

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Boris Badenov: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Ingrid Third: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Numbuh Two: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Boris Badenov  
Andy French: Boris Badenov

Final tally of votes cast:

Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 3  
Boris Badenov: 2


	17. The Wannabe

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

I don't understand it.

Look, I know I'm not that smart. I went to a party school for God's sake. Our school mascot was a fucking caveman. And, I mean, let's be serious, there was no way I was gonna get into Yale or Harvard or any of those douchebag preppy schools my brother wants to go to. I'm just a guy who likes to drink, likes to party, likes to have a good time. So yeah, maybe I don't use my brain as much as I should. But that doesn't mean I'm _stupid_.

Let's ignore the times where I actually was stupid and the times I still am stupid and focus on what's important: the vote made no sense. I mean, I heard what that group of three was saying at dinner. I get it. Nazz was on the chopping block and I was next. Nothing confusing there. But then they turn around and vote off Boris? Sorry, I'm not buying it.

Nazz said she had a plan, though. And she needed my vote to get rid of Boris. So maybe we both voted for him. But even so, Nazz and I were the targets! There _had_ to be two votes against one of us! Hell, I thought there were three against Nazz. What the fuck happened?

It's driving me nuts, and I'll be honest, I can't really sleep. I know Boris is pissed at Numbuh Two and Ingrid, so he's probably going to direct his anger against them, but the guy scares me. There's something in his eyes.

Maybe it's because he threw me under the bus last time. I mean, I guess maybe I deserved it. But that guy is definitely creepy.

So do I sleep and maybe get my throat cut, or do I stay awake all night and perform crappily tomorrow?

Shit. Tomorrow Chris is in charge of the challenges or something. I'm fucked no matter what I do.

* * *

The sound of a bugle rips through my ears and I jolt awake just in time to slam into the floor face first. Pain sears through my skull and mixes with the loud tones as I struggle to wake up.

 _nazz rigged the votes_

What the shit? I push myself upright and stare at my watch. 4:18. Fuck.

"Alright, victims, I have a big announcement!" Chris says over the P.A. "Today's mystery past contestant has ordered me to be nice to you. So! Today, there will be no early-morning wake-up calls, there will be an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast in the mess hall where the pancakes are actually good and available until one o'clock, and the challenge won't start until three so that all of you can digest your food properly."

"What was the point of waking us up this early?" I hear Nazz scream from next door.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Chris says in a tone of false innocence. "Darn, that wasn't supposed to happen. Oh well!"

The P.A. shuts off with a loud squeak, and I climb back into bed. Kicking the bunched-up covers down to my feet, I shut my eyes and prepare to go back to sleep.

 _nazz rigged the votes_

Wait. Shit. That actually makes sense.

What the fuck am I going to do?

* * *

I slowly wake up again. I still feel tired, probably because Chris decided to wake us all up in the middle of the morning.

I spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling, trying to wake up. Last night comes flooding back, and I remember what I thought before going to sleep a second time. That Nazz rigged the votes.

Crap, this is bad. If she rigged the votes, there's no way that didn't get recorded. That's going to be on camera, and I'm going to be dead for making a deal with her. Not just among the other people in the game, but there's no way my friends will forgive that. Plus Kevin is going to be ashamed of me.

Huh. Never thought I'd care what that little douchebag thought.

I look at my watch. 11:38. I should still be able to get some pancakes.

So I head out to the cafeteria where as promised, pancakes are waiting. I get a decent-sized stack–hey, with the food around here you'd take what you can get too–and sit down next to the only other person in the cafeteria. I don't really know who he is, since I didn't end up watching the season along with everyone else, but I did pick up the details and I know that this guy didn't really do much...a month ago? Man, this show moves fast. But he wasn't on my team and I didn't really have any reason to get too chummy with anybody on the other team. Even Snidely and Elise only happened because he went after me, and I'm still not sure why he did that. It probably reduced the chances of winning for both of us.

"Hey," I say.

The guy swallows a big bite of pancake and turns to me. "Hey," he says blandly.

I study him. He's wearing thick goggles and a lab coat, and his hair sticks up from his head high into the air.

"So, how are the pancakes?" I ask.

"Pretty good," he says. He grins. "I love pancakes. And it turns out Chef can cook these really well."

"Hey!" Chef barks from the kitchen. "I'm a great chef! Just not around you."

I ignore him. "So, uh, I don't think we met last time around."

"Steve," the guy says around a mouthful of pancake. "My name's Steve."

"Andy," I introduce myself.

Steve swallows. "You were part of Snidely's alliance, right?"

"Uh, yeah," I say. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Why'd you join them?" he asks bluntly.

I blink. "Well, actually...Snidely just came up and asked me if I wanted to be in an alliance, and I said yes."

"That's all?" Steve asks, surprised.

"That's all," I say. "I'm not sure why I joined, honestly."

Steve nods and turns back to his pancakes. "Well, with Snidely out of the game, what're your plans?"

"Not get involved in alliances," I say quickly. "I don't want to have to deal with the fallout from one. Well, except for this deal I have going with Nazz."

Steve swallows. "How's that?"

"Well, like, as soon as she leaves I become the prime target," I say. "She told me about this last night."

"I heard," Steve says. "So you decided to take her deal?"

"Yeah," I say. "But now I'm reconsidering."

"Why's that?" Steve asks. "Don't want to be one of the bad guys this time?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "And..."

I pause. Should I tell him?

"And what?" Steve asks kindly.

Screw it, go for it.

"What do you know about rigging elections?"

Steve chokes on a mouthful of pancake. "What do you–wow. That's a, that's a pretty hefty charge there."

"So..." I prompt.

Steve takes a sip of his milk and thinks for a moment. He swallows and turns to me. "I suppose it can be done. Why, do you think Nazz did?"

"Yeah," I say. "Last night's vote made no sense at all. Nazz was obviously supposed to go home."

Steve's face hardens. "Was she now."

"Well, I mean, at dinner last night the other three people on our team discussed it and Nazz was the consensus pick," I say. "Except among Boris, who wanted to get rid of me, but he sounded like he'd vote her off too. Plus there's no way Ingrid and Numbuh Two would get rid of a loyal ally."

"So you think Nazz rigged the vote?" Steve asks me.

"I don't see how else it could make any sense," I say.

Steve chews through another mouthful of pancake. "So how'd she rig the vote?"

"Well, she–um, she obviously–I don't know! Maybe she stuffed the box with extra ballots or something," I say.

"Wouldn't somebody have noticed that there were more than five votes?" Steve asks.

I turn to my pancakes and begin eating, hoping that I'll be able to figure out how she did it. By the time I've finished them off, I'm full but still don't know how she could've rigged the election.

"Adios," I tell Steve.

"See you at the challenge," he says, continuing to eat pancakes.

* * *

Nazz has to be around here somewhere. If I'm going to get any answers, I'm going to need to talk to her. But I can't talk to her until I find her, so where the hell is she?

I check my watch again. Crap. It's almost three o'clock, and I've pretty much burned off any calories I might gotten from breakfast by searching around the island for her. I mean, I didn't think it would be so hard to find her, especially now that the mess hall is closed, but I have no clue where she could be. She's not on the beach, she's not up by the campfire pit, she's not in the girls' cabin–I asked Ingrid. Where the hell is she?

I'm back by the cabins, but when I look around I don't see anybody at all except for Aunt Grandma, who is sitting on the porch steps of the other guys' cabin and staring into space.

"Alright, campers!" the P.A. booms. "Today's special guest is here, so please get down to the dock and welcome her!"

The door to the cabin opens and Boris walks out, murder in his eyes. I stare after him as he purposefully walks towards the dock and my heart nearly skips a beat when somebody jumps off the roof behind me and lands next to me.

It's Nazz.

"Where were you?" I ask.

Nazz shrugs. "I was hanging out on the roof. It's not like I have any friends here, y'know?"

"I know, but–" I start to say.

"C'mon, let's get down to the docks," Nazz interrupts. "We don't want to give Boris an excuse not to trust us."

 _But he can't trust us_ is what I think, but I keep my mouth shut and follow her down to the dock, where a college-aged girl with thick glasses and brunette hair greets us with perhaps the most stunning smile I've ever seen.

"Hey, guys!" she says cheerfully. "I'm Beth, and I'm gonna give you your first challenge, but first, hugs for everyone!"

Beth goes down the line of all of us, giving each of us a squeeze, except for Nazz, whom she ignores completely. As she passes Nazz, I swear I see Nazz's face drop into an expression of pure sadness, but she recomposes herself so fast it's hard to tell.

Beth's hug isn't too tight or too loose. It's a nice hug, and she holds it for a bit longer than she needs to before releasing me and moving on to Ingrid. As soon as she's finished, she walks back so that she's standing in front of all of us.

"Okay, guys," Beth says. "I know you're all excited about maybe winning ten million dollars. But I'm here to tell you that there's something more important than money: friendship. And I gotta tell you, I haven't seen much friendship on this island." She turns to us. "The only people who are still friends on the Predictable Formulas are Ingrid and Numbuh Two. Boris, come on. They're your friends. Andy, show some heart. And Nazz...just go away." She turns to the other team. "And you guys, you guys don't trust each other at all. But you know what? I've figured out a way to make sure you all become friends, through teamwork challenges!"

We all look at each other nervously. Numbuh Two coughs.

"Uh, and what will these challenges be?" he asks nervously.

Beth shrugs. "I couldn't think of anything, so I asked Chris to help out, and he said he'd be glad to."

We all inhale sharply. This is not good.

"Oh come on, guys!" Beth says cheerfully. "It's not like Chris is going to do anything _too_ dangerous in a challenge based on teamwork and friendship, right?"

The loud whir of helicopter blades comes from above us, and Chris leans out of the helicopter with a megaphone.

"Alright, campers!" Chris bellows happily. "The first challenge is going to be pretty awesome! Beth already told me you'll be doing this in teams of two, so I thought about what I could do with two-person teams and came up with some _really_ good ideas. I mean REALLY good. So I decided to plant mines all over the beach!"

Oh, shit.

"And you'll have to walk through the minefield blindfolded!" Chris continues.

"That's ridiculous!" Ingrid complains. "The mines are buried! The blindfold is redundant!"

"Yeah," Chris says happily. "I know. So to add to the challenge, you'll have to carry your chosen teammate on your shoulders."

"WHAT?" we all shout, including Beth.

"I know, I'm good," Chris says. "But don't worry! The person being carried will have a map, and it'll be their job to direct the carrier through the mines! Do it well, and the first one across the finish line will win the first challenge! But do it poorly, and ka-BOOM!" He cackles evilly. " _Man_ I'm good!"

Aunt Grandma glares at Beth. "Nothing too dangerous, huh?"

Beth grins weakly. "Sorry, guys. But, uh..." Her face falls. "Okay, so I totally misjudged what Chris would do. It's my own fault. I know what he's like."

"Okay, Beth!" Chris calls down. "Choose the teams!"

"Right," Beth says unhappily. She sets down two top hats, one with a red band and one with a purple band. "Okay, so I wanted to make sure that at least three different pairs would happen, so I made a different card for each possible pair. This means that you guys–" she gestures to the Reboots "–will compete in every possible pair. So, the first pair is–" she reaches into the purple-banded hat and draws out a slip of paper. "Ruby and Steve!" She reaches into the red-banded hat. "And the Formulas will get Ingrid and Numbuh Two."

Chef walks up to us and hands out the maps.

"So, want to ride on my shoulders?" Numbuh Two asks.

Ingrid thinks about it. "Actually, I think I should carry you."

"But–" Numbuh Two tries to interject. Ingrid leans in and whispers something in his ear. Numbuh Two looks conflicted but then nods.

"Okay, I'll ride on your shoulders," he says.

Ingrid grabs the map, glances at it, and nods. She hands it over to Numbuh Two.

"Are we ready?" Chris calls from his helicopter. Ingrid gives the helicopter a thumbs-up–a gesture mirrored by a nervous-looking Ruby.

"Then let's go!" Chris declares. The four hop onto the sand, where Numbuh Two awkwardly climbs onto Ingrid's back and Ruby does the same with Steve.

"Go!" Beth yells. They take off. As soon as they're gone, Boris rounds on us with anger in his eyes.

"Alright, Nazz," he says angrily. "I want to know how exactly you managed to make it so I was on the chopping block next to you."

Nazz shrugs awkwardly. "I'm as confused as you are! I voted for Ingrid."

"Oh, sure," Boris scoffs. "You warn me that I could get voted off when it's convenient, and then I get voted off? That makes no sense!"

"I don't know how it happened!" Nazz defends herself. "I was trying to warn you it _would_ happen, I didn't know it was going to happen that night! I told you, I voted for Ingrid!"

"Oh yeah?" Boris says. He whirls to face me. "Who did _you_ vote for?"

"I, uh, you!" I say nervously. Nazz scowls at me.

"Oh, really?" Boris growls.

"Hold on," Nazz says. "Who did _you_ vote for, Boris?"

" _You_ , like everyone agreed!" Boris snaps.

"Well if I voted for Ingrid, you voted for me, and Andy voted for you, that's a tie all around," Nazz says, sounding a bit calmer. "So for you to get voted off, there would have to be at least one other vote against you. Probably two, actually."

Boris's look of anger slowly gives way to one of realization.

"So it's true," he whispers, seemingly to himself. "I was betrayed."

He laughs darkly. "They timed it perfectly, too. They would have pulled it off."

Boris turns back to us, a dark and sadistic grin on his face.

"Uh, everything okay?" I ask nervously.

Boris continues to grin. "Tell me, Nazz, do you still want to get rid of Ingrid?"

"Are you offering?" Nazz asks.

"Yes," Boris says sinisterly.

"I accept," she says. "Andy, are you interested?"

I scratch the back of my neck nervously. "Well, gee, y'know..."

"Think carefully," Boris says, a hint of steel in his voice.

I stay silent for a few seconds.

"AND WE HAVE A WINNER!" Chris loudly declares from above. "Ingrid and Numbuh Two cross the finish line without running into any landmines and with very little communication! Normally I'd think this was suspicious, but I don't really care, so that puts the Predictable Formulas ahead with a win in the first challenge! For our second challenge, though, we're gonna do something a little different: we're going to throw knives!"

"WHAT?" Beth screams. "That's insane! You can't do that!"

"Oh yes I can!" Chris says back. "I got the spinning wheels set up and everything!"

* * *

Chris isn't kidding. Back by the cabins, he has two large wooden targets set up with straps to keep everybody locked in by the ankles, wrists, and neck. He's also waiting for us on the ground.

"This challenge is the time-honored feat of throwing knives at a moving target," Chris says.

"That's not a time-honored feat," Ingrid points out.

"Isn't it?" Chris says. "Because if nobody gets punctured, that _will_ be quite a feat. And I'll be honest, I'm kind of hoping that doesn't happen. We've gotta keep the ratings up. Anyway! One of you will be on the wheel. The other one will throw the knives. The wheel will be spinning. If you don't hit your teammate, your team wins–unless the other team also somehow managed to avoid killing their teammate, in which case the winner is the team with the most knives in the wood and the ones closest to their target."

"Chris!" Beth says. "Please! Don't do this!"

Chris looks at her and shakes his head. "Nah. We're doing this. Choose the players."

Tears spring to Beth's eyes as she reaches into the purple-brimmed hat and draws out a slip of paper.

"Hold on," Nazz says. "Doesn't Beth's contract allow her to determine the challenge?"

"Yeah," Chris says. "Except that she handed responsibility for making up the challenges to me, so uh, I'm in charge."

"I thought you said last season that you had to tone down the violence because this was a fanfic and the author is a gutless wonder," Steve said.

What the fuck? I mean, seriously, THE FUCK? WHAT? THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?

"Yeah, I did say that," Chris says. "But I'd assume that either the author discovered what real entertainment is, or else the author's not gonna step in and stop me. Either way, I want blood! Now, Beth?"

"Aunt Grandma and Ruby, Boris and Andy," Beth says disappointedly.

"Alright, I'll give you four a minute to choose who goes on the chopping board," Chris says.

Boris puts an arm around my waist and leads me away. Once we're a safe distance from everyone else, he begins to speak.

"Now, buddy, you trust me, don't you?" he says sweetly. "You'd better, because I'm good with knives."

"Uh..." I say awkwardly.

"I mean, _really_ good with knives," Boris says. "I bet that I could put one, oh, pretty much anywhere I wanted. I could probably send one right next to your ear. Of course, you will be spinning, so I might miss. I might miss by a little, put it an inch outside your ear. Or miss by a lot and put it three inches inside." He grins. "That would be your eye, though, and I'm sure that I won't hit your eye. After all, that would not only hurt you, it would hurt our team. So much, that they might decide they're better off without you."

"You're threatening me," I say.

"Threatening is such an ugly word," Boris says. "I prefer to say that I'm making a promise. Unless you want to promise me something else."

I stare at him, aghast. "How were you ever one of the good guys?"

Boris's grin grows wider, if such a thing is possible. "I never said I was."

Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run like hell.

"Okay," I say once I can trust my voice not to shake too much. "You have a deal."

"Good," Boris purrs. "Now get on that board and we'll see if I follow through with my end."

FUCK.

* * *

A minute later I'm strapped onto the board. Boris lines up, four knives in his left hand and one ready to throw in his right hand. A few feet away from him, Aunt Grandma is lined up as well. I turn my head to the left and see that, as far as I can tell, Ruby appears almost scared as I do.

"Keep your head still!" Boris calls to me. "Don't make yourself a bigger target."

Fuck this was a bad idea. Fuck this was a bad idea. Fuck this was a bad idea. Fuck this was a bad idea.

Suddenly, the target I'm strapped to starts spinning–slowly at first, then faster and faster. Soon, the world around me becomes a blur as sky and ground trade places too fast for my eyes to keep up. I do my best to keep my body still and try not to think about all the ways in which this could go wrong.

An airhorn goes off. Seconds later, I hear a blade thunk into wood. It doesn't seem to be my board, but then I hear another thunk right next to my ear and scream.

Boris was not fucking around. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I hear another nearby thunk, followed almost immediately by one from farther away. Another thunk, and I feel pressure against my groin.

Oh shit did he castrate me? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Boris please don't take my penis. Please. Please. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

Another thunk next to me. Then another one farther away. Then another one I hear in my ear.

Okay. I don't think I'm bleeding. Although I want to puke. And shit. My stomach is trying to empty itself through the nearest routes, really.

Slowly, my wheel comes to a stop.

"Okay!" Chris announces. "Five hits on the board, three of them within an inch of Andy! Nice job, Boris! Aunt Grandma, you still have a knife. You gonna throw it or what?"

I blink to refocus my eyes. I see a blurry Aunt Grandma grin.

"Of course," she says. "Watch. This."

She hurls the knife and I hear a horrified shriek from Ruby. A few seconds later, her wheel begins to slow, and eventually it stops. Chris whistles.

"All knives hit wood, all of them next to her body, including one right over her head!" he exclaims. "It's pretty clear that the Overthought Reboots won this round!"

"Uh, Chris?" I croak out. "Can we have a bathroom break?"

Chris rolls his eyes. "Fine. Be back here in ten. And then we'll be on to the third and final challenge. Trust me, if you thought these were bad, part three is going to be an absolute _killer_."

Chef walks over to me and unfastens the bonds holding me to the oversized dartboard. As soon as I can walk again, I take off, not bothering to see what else is going on. I have to use the bathroom pronto.

* * *

I've just finished up in the bathroom and am heading back when I realize that Boris held up his side of the bargain. I came out unharmed. Except for the emotional damage and mental scars, of course. But besides that, I'm just fine.

"Alright, everybody ready?" Chris asks as soon as I get back. "Good. Because for the third challenge, you guys–"

"No!" Beth yells.

"I'm sorry, but as I already told you–" Chris starts to say.

"I don't care!" Beth says. "I'm in charge of this challenge, and they're not going to do _anything_ that might get them maimed, killed, or seriously injured!"

"Oh really?" Chris says sarcastically. "Then what _are_ you going to have them do?"

Beth purses her lips. "Trust fall."

Chris groans. "Come _on_! That will make for like the lamest TV ever!"

"Well too bad!" Beth says angrily. "Maybe if you were less focused on ratings and more focused on not being a huge jerk to people, you'd have more friends!"

"I have friends!" Chris protests. "Kind of."

"Good for you!" Beth says. "But I'm in charge here! And I say you have to be nice, and you have to be nice with a smile on your face!"

"This is totally unfair!" Chris complains.

"With a smile on your face!" Beth repeats. Chris plasters on an obviously fake grin. "Good. And the four players are..." She draws two sheets of paper out of the hats. "Aunt Grandma and Steve against Andy and Nazz!"

"Fine," Chris says through his teeth. "Can this at least be a trust fall off the cliff?"

"Nope!" Beth says. "You four, come with me! We're going to the campfire pit!"

We start up the path to the campfire pit, Beth in the lead. Behind her, Nazz and I are in front, Aunt Grandma and Steve are a few feet behind us, and everyone else is trailing behind.

"Alright," I say quietly, "how did you get Boris voted off?"

"I don't know," Nazz says. "I've been thinking about that myself. Maybe Ingrid and Numbuh Two turned on him."

"You really think so?" I ask.

"What else could it be?" she replies.

"I thought maybe you rigged the votes," I say as calmly as I can.

Nazz looks confused. "How would I even do that?"

"I...don't know," I admit.

"Well, I suppose I could have broken the lock on the box," she says, "but I'd need tools to do that. And I didn't."

I think about this for a few seconds. "Fine."

"But we shouldn't let Ingrid and Numbuh Two worm their way back into his life," she says. "I say we get rid of one of them tonight."

"How?" I ask.

"By losing," she says. "Look, I'll do the fall. You just have to be a bit off-center and not catch me right."

"Are you sure about this?" I ask.

She shrugs. "It's worth a shot."

We reach the campfire pit.

"Alright, guys," Beth tells us. "Choose a stump to stand on, and then trust your partner."

Nazz walks over to a stump and climbs on top of it. I stand behind her, then shift about half a foot to the left.

"And...fall!" Beth says happily.

Nazz falls towards me and I reach out to catch her. She falls wrong, though, and even though I try to catch her–I don't have to fake trying–she hits the ground.

"Ooh," Beth says, wincing. "Uh, I guess the Overthought Reboots won?"


	18. The Normal Guy

"So it's over?" Chris asked.

"Yep!" Beth said, grinning. "The Overthought Reboots won!"

"Good. Get out of here," Chris said.

The smile dropped off of Beth's face. "What?"

"Get. Out," Chris repeated. "Your challenge is over, we have our winners, now scram!"

"Well–fine!" Beth said angrily. "At least I didn't torture them!"

"And our plummeting ratings can all be blamed on you," Chris said smoothly. He shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know what the producers were thinking. Letting past cast members come up with the challenges? So stupid."

"So...what now?" Andy asked.

"So now, you guys are on the chopping block. For real this time. Maybe," Chris said. "Figure out who you wanna vote off, and I'll see you tonight at the campfire ceremony!"

* * *

Dinner was again tense, as it had been for the past few days. Beth's challenge had failed to do anything to draw either team closer together, as the members of the Overthought Reboots spent dinner looking each other over with suspicion, anger, or a mixture of both, while the Predictable Formulas were again split into two separate groups. This time, though, one member had changed sides. Boris was now sitting with Nazz and Andy instead of Ingrid and Numbuh Two.

Boris took a bite of the slop he'd been served. When he finished swallowing, he conspicuously leaned over the table to whisper to Nazz and Andy.

"Who do you think should leave?" he whispered.

Nazz grinned at him. "How about you choose?"

Boris sat back down and grinned at Ingrid and Numbuh Two, who didn't notice him because they were deep in conversation.

"So there's no way it shouldn't have been tied?" Ingrid asked again.

"Look, unless Boris decided to vote himself out, he should have _at_ _worst_ been tied with Nazz!" Numbuh Two said. "Why do you keep going over this?"

"Because it makes no sense!" Ingrid said, sounding frustrated.

"I know!" Numbuh Two said. "How could Boris have gotten voted off?"

Boris cackled harshly, drawing their attention. "Oh, please. Don't try to play innocent. I know a guilty person when I see them."

"Then you know we didn't vote you off!" Numbuh Two protested.

"Yeah!" Ingrid said. "Seriously, Boris, we didn't vote for you! We voted for Nazz, like we said we would!"

"Then how did I end up getting voted off?" Boris asked with a smirk on his face.

"We don't know!" Numbuh Two and Ingrid protested in unison.

"Oh yes you do," Boris said. He turned his back on them.

"Boris, c'mon..." Ingrid pleaded. Boris ignored them.

"See, guys?" Ruby said on the other side of the room. "We don't have to be like that. C'mon, we're a team. Let's work together from now on."

Aunt Grandma and Steve eyed each other warily, and Ruby sighed and stared down at her plate.

* * *

The Predictable Formulas spaced themselves out as far as they could at the campfire ceremony. Due to the small size of the clearing, they were still close to each other, but there was some space between each of them. A nervous-looking boy with brown skin and black hair walked up to the podium, rubbing his hands together. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, hey," he said. "Hey. Hi. Dave. I am, I'm Dave, I–oh, I should've written this down."

Dave walked away from the podium and then walked back over to it again. "Hey guys, I'm Dave. I was on Pahkitew Island. I uh, I thought I had some good ideas for this season, but apparently the producers didn't think so, but, uh, at least they brought me back to, um–Chef! What am I doing?" he called.

"You're throwing them marshmallows!" Chef called from offstage. "Just give them to the winners!"

"Oh, right," Dave said. "Right. So, uh, four marshmallows for five people. Wonder who's going home?"

Dave chuckled nervously. The other campers looked at him with stony faces.

"Right," he said awkwardly. "Not a good thing to say. Uh, well, um, the first marshmallow goes to...Numbuh Two! You're safe."

Numbuh Two caught the marshmallow with a grin and hi-fived Ingrid. He looked at Boris with a smile on his face that soon dropped off when Boris ignored him.

"The next marshmallow is going to go to...which one of you is Boris again?" Dave asked.

Boris looked up. "That's me."

"Right," Dave said. He tossed Boris the marshmallow and then pointed at the other players. "Nazz, Ingrid, and Andy, right?"

"Actually, I'm Nazz," Nazz corrected him.

"And I'm Ingrid," Ingrid said.

"Okay," Dave said uncomfortably. "Right. But uh, you _are_ Andy, right?"

"Yes," Andy said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Well, uh, here's your, um, marshmallow?" Dave ventured, tossing Andy the treat. Andy caught it and popped it into his mouth.

"Right," Dave said, trying to sound composed. "You two were the only ones to get any votes. And the margin–I have it written down here–the margin was three to two. So, uh, one of you lost by a single vote. And one of you will get a single marshmallow. Now, the last marshmallow is going to, uh, it's going to..."

"GET ON WITH IT!" Chris yelled.

"You dragged these ceremonies out all the time when I was on the show!" Dave yelled back.

"Yes, and I'm also a professional host, not some guest star who stumbles over every single word!" Chris shouted. "Now throw out the last marshmallow so we can end this episode!"

Dave groaned. "Fine. The last marshmallow goes to...Nazz."

The marshmallow fluttered towards Nazz. Ingrid stood up and sighed, hanging her head as she headed towards the dock without a word.

"Ingrid!" Numbuh Two shouted after her. Ingrid turned back to look at him.

And Numbuh Two's breath froze in his throat as he was unable to think of what to say. She had to go, and that was that. Ingrid was gone, ostensibly for the rest of the competition. She wasn't going to win again, their alliance with Boris had collapsed, and now he was the odd man out on his team.

"Thanks for playing," Numbuh Two finally choked out.

A smile graced Ingrid's lips, and she turned back to the path and resumed walking towards the boat, casting a goodbye wave behind her as she left.

She boarded the boat, and it pulled away from the island, taking last season's winner with it.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Ingrid Third  
Ingrid Third: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Andy French: Ingrid Third  
Numbuh Two: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Boris Badenov: Ingrid Third

Final tally of votes cast:

Ingrid Third: 3  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 2


	19. The Sweet Girl's Friend

**Enter...  
NUMBUH TWO**

I was up after midnight. Yeah, I know it's a cliche. Not being able to sleep because everything around you is messed up. But that's how it is for me. Everything is messed up, and _I don't know how_. Or maybe it's why. I don't know why? Well, I know why, but I don't know why the why–nevermind. I just don't understand how Boris almost got kicked off the island.

It's pretty obvious that Nazz and Andy both voted for him. Ingrid's the one who pointed out that they must've seen him as the weak link, and yeah, that's my fault. Somehow I just feel like Ingrid is the easiest person on the island to talk to, and Boris ended up getting left by the wayside. But that still doesn't explain _anything_. There were two targets for us to take on: Nazz and Andy. Even if I assume that Ingrid decided to choose somebody else to vote off without telling me or Boris– _and she didn't_ –she'd have voted for Andy instead! And Boris had to have voted for one of them, right? He wouldn't have voted himself off.

Unless maybe he was already planning to turn on us? Then it _maybe_ could have been a split vote. If Ingrid voted for Andy, _which she didn't_. And Boris did say he was going to backstab us eventually. But why now? And why let himself be kicked out? Did Nazz get to him and convince him to vote for one of us? But if she did, why would she and Andy turn around and try to vote Boris out? At best, that would lead to a tie the next time we lost, also known as yesterday.

Ugh, this is not helping me sleep at all.

* * *

Speaking from experience, I know that there are two kinds of sleepless nights. The first kind is where you're trying to stay awake. Where you need to be up all night, like if you're on a stakeout or something. Those aren't fun because you're constantly battling sleep, but at least then there's a reason that you're always awake. The second kind of sleepless night is the kind where you can't sleep, even though you want to. Those are worse. You lie in bed and try to get some rest. Your brain and body tell you they want to sleep. All you want to do is go to sleep. But instead of sleeping, you're staying awake and staying awake and staying awake and it's horrible.

And then your mind starts wandering and thinking about all kinds of things. And sometimes it just gets stuck in a rut. Like right now. I can't help wondering if Boris heard that the campfire ceremony was a fake and that nobody was going home before the votes were cast and decided to vote himself off. I mean, it might make sense. If Nazz and Andy voted for him, he could pretend to be outraged about being kicked out and turn on us. If they voted for one of us, it ends up as a tie and then there's tension when we accuse him of vote-splitting, giving him an excuse to leave. And if Andy turns on Nazz and votes her off, it means that he can continue to cozy up to us.

It fits together perfectly.

 _If_ he knew the vote didn't matter.

He is sneaky. If anybody was going to overhear a relevant conversation, it'd probably be him. He was the one who got Andy kicked off last time by corroborating our story. So maybe he overheard Chris and Chef discussing it or something. And now would be the right time to do it if he wasn't sure all three of us could make it to the merge. But then again, there were five of us and three of them. That's an advantage for us right there. And when you add in that he's _still_ probably on the outside of any alliance involving him, Nazz, and Andy...

But maybe not. Nobody likes Nazz and Andy is new. If Boris actually did set all this up by voting himself off in a situation where he knew he wouldn't leave, he looks like the victim. Despite admitting he stabs people in the back, he's still probably the most trustworthy of all three of them. Which means his options open up after the merge.

If he can make it. Maybe Nazz and Andy turn on him if we end up losing enough that it's just three people in a pre-merge elimination ceremony.

But that could have happened anyway, with all three of us. And Boris would have been on the outside, guaranteed. We all knew it, even if none of us said it.

Why can't I get to sleep?

* * *

 _"What's it gonna be, boy?"_

 _I stared at Nazz. Her red lips twisted savagely._

 _"What's. It. Gonna be?"_

 _"Stop!"_

 _I turned around. Ingrid was trapped in a jail cell. She looked scared. Nazz walked in front of her._

 _"Yes. Or. No?"_

 _"I don't..."_

 _"Don't do it, Hoagie!"_

 _"I–"_

 _Nazz grinned, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. "Make. Your. Choice."_

 _"Don't do it!" Ingrid called to me. "Don't choose!"_

 _The ground split beneath me. I began to fall._

 _"CHOOSE!"_

 _I turned my head to look. Nazz was a purple dragon._

 _"I choose not to decide!" I yelled._

 _Nazz's mouth opened wider than a mouth should, and a cackle emanated from the cavern as she flew below me._

 _"You have still made a choice!"_

 _I fell into the darkness of her mouth._

...holy Zero what the Father did that mean?

It's still dark out. I mean, at least I got some sleep. Maybe if I lie down again I can sleep some more.

Maybe my mind will stop buzzing with confusion and desperation.

Maybe I won't stop wondering what happened.

Maybe...

* * *

 _"...and that's how we do it," Boris concluded. "Any questions?"_

 _"Why are we robbing the bank?" I asked._

 _"Why else?" Boris asked. "For money, which we will give to Fearless Leader, of course! And also to cripple the decadent American capitalist economy, which is obviously inferior to the planned economy of Pottsylvania commanded by our most wise and intelligent Mr. Big!"_

 _"Why are you talking like that?" I asked._

 _Boris grabbed me and whispered into my ear. "You fool! Fearless Leader has eyes and ears everywhere!"_

 _"Boris!" a potted plant in the corner suddenly yelled. "Are you telling the idiotic American that I am always watching?"_

 _Boris snapped to attention. "Yes I am, Fearless Leader!"_

 _"Good!" the voice yelled. "Teach him to respect my authoritah!"_

 _Boris frowned. "Fearless Leader, are you feeling alright? You don't sound like yourself."_

 _"Uh, no, I sound like I always do," the plant said._

 _"No, actually, you sound like a little boy," Boris said._

 _"WHAT?" the plant roared._

 _"A fat, whiny little boy," Boris continued._

 _"Ey! I'm not fat, I'm big-boned! And you will respect my authoritah, you fucking bitch!"_

 _Boris's eyes widened. "Whoa, can't say that on television."_

 _"What the fuck would you know what people say on TV, dumbass?" the plant asked angrily. "I say whatever the fuck I want, and if you don't like it, get the fudge out!"_

I woke up again. It was still dark out.

What the heck is going on with these dreams?

Okay. Try again.

Maybe this time I'll sleep until daylight comes.

* * *

 _Numbuh One delivered a punch to Father's gut. Father staggered back and slammed into a wall. Numbuh One was on him instantly, punching at his face, but Father grabbed him and threw him off._

 _Something's wrong here. Numbuh One looked like he was ten years old, and Father–_

 _Father turned his head to look at me. He had no eyes._

 _"Well what do we have here?" he asked. But his voice was all wrong. It was deeper, more commanding, and he had some sort of accent._

 _Numbuh One launched himself at Father again. Father caught him with one hand, but Numbuh One grabbed onto his wrist and TORE HIS ARM OFF._

 _Oh shit._

 _Father looked down at the stump where his arm used to be. No blood came out. He just laughed without a mouth._

 _"Nice try, but we all know you can't really hurt me," Father said, still sounding all wrong. And then tendrils poked out of his arm, and it reattached itself to Father's body._

 _Numbuh One didn't say anything. He just reached out, grabbed both of Father's legs, and pulled them off the ground. Father's head hit the ground hard, and his body went limp and dripped out of Numbuh One's grip._

 _"Numbuh One!" I cried, running over to him. "What's going on? Are you okay?"_

 _"Oh, I'm just fine," Numbuh One said with Father's voice. He took Father's pipe out of his pocket and stuck it into his mouth, lowering his sunglasses to reveal Father's yellow eyes. "In fact, I'd say I'm ALL FIRED UP!"_

 _Numbuh One burst into flames and his body reformed into Father's body. He laughed evilly, and his laugh was soon joined another. I looked down at the floor where the body of what I thought was Father lay and saw two fires rise out of the black blob on the floor. The blob ascended like a liquid, revealing that below the fires sat two eyes, and below that the green outline of a face with red nostrils. Inside the green lips were a full set of white teeth bordered by an upper and lower pair of gigantic fangs. The ensemble was completed with a burning red beard, but even then the blackness continued to spread until it enveloped the whole room and the face looked down at me from the ceiling._

 _"W-w-w-w-w-w-w-what's going on here?" I asked, frightened._

 _"The walls are weaker in dreams," Father said from behind me._

 _I looked at him, confused. "What does that mean?"_

 _"Nothing is as it seems," Father and the figure chorused in stereo. "Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is as it seems. Nothing is as it seems. Nothi_

"WAKE UP, CAMPERS!" Chris bellowed through the loudspeakers. "GET UP AND GET OUT HERE! C'MON! I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"

I stumbled to my feet and threw my clothes on before heading out with Boris and Andy. It was still dark out. Suddenly, a spotlight switched on, revealing Chris standing in front of us. He grinned.

"You know, I'm pretty peeved about yesterday," Chris said.

"What?" I complained. "You got to put us in mortal danger! Twice!"

"Yeah, but Beth kept me from putting you in mortal danger _three_ times," Chris said. "Not cool, Beth. Now, I haven't been given back control of this show because apparently the producers want to continue on this theme of having former contestants return to give challenges or marshmallows–totally lame, I know. So, I've decided if I can't torture you during the challenges or the campfire ceremonies, I'm just gonna have to resort to other methods."

"Meaning?" Aunt Grandma said impatiently.

"Meaning that today's special challenge giver isn't supposed to arrive until eleven o'clock," Chris said. "But, to make things interesting, you're not allowed to go back to bed."

"Oh yeah?" Aunt Grandma said. "We'll see about that."

Aunt Grandma turned around just in time to see Chef putting a padlock on the door to her side of the cabin.

"Yeah," Chris said. "It seems we just saw. Good work, Chef."

"Whatever, man," Chef said. He yawned. "Man, I wasn't supposed to be up for another hour! And you made me work late last night clearing the beach of land mines!"

"Hey, _I_ didn't want the beach cleared," Chris said. "But with this new focus on 'contestant safety' and 'lawsuits' and 'government regulation' and 'endangering lives outside the scope of the game', we had to get that done."

"Well why didn't you get the interns to do it?" Chef complained. "That's what they're there for!"

"Yeah, see, with the contracts not being as tight as I thought they were, we've had to focus on 'safety' and 'lawsuits' and 'government regulation' and 'not rampantly killing interns,'" Chris said. "Totally lame, I know."

"So what, we just wait out here until whoever-it-is-today arrives?" Nazz asked.

"Nah, breakfast is at eight," Chris said. "You just have to wait until then."

* * *

Eating rotten, runny eggs is not a good way to start your day. Especially when you have to do it while sitting alone, with everybody else on your team at the other end of the table, including a guy you thought was one of your best and only friends on the island, who is constantly glaring at you. What does he have to glare about? He's the one who betrayed us!

I still can't believe he thinks that was a good idea. We were his _friends_. And instead of sticking with us, he framed us so he could go hang out with what, Nazz and Andy? Nazz played everyone for fools last year, and she's definitely going to try and do the same thing with him, and Andy was one of Snidely's patsies! If any of us three should know not to hang out with Snidely's minions it should be him! He pretended to be one for a few days! But there he is, hanging out with our enemies. It makes me sick.

Or maybe that's the eggs.

* * *

A fat girl jumped off the boat and ran down the dock towards us. She stopped in front of all of us and squealed.

"Eeee! Hi guys, I'm Sadie!" she said cheerfully. "And like, I'm gonna give you your challenge today!"

She paused, apparently hoping for a response. None of us said or did anything, and she drooped a little.

"Okay, so, when Beth came back to the hotel, she was totally bummed," Sadie continued. "Like, _totally_ bummed. She thought that none of you had become friendlier with each other and might have actually gotten worse. So like, me and Katie got together, well we were already together, but we like put our heads together and we realized that since we're like totally best female friends for life, we know _all about_ friendship and how important it is! So we decided, well mostly me but Katie helped too, that for my challenge I should make you guys like, be friends with each other! So I'm gonna split everybody into pairs, and by the end of the day, you'll totally be best friends!"

"But there are three of us on our team," Aunt Grandma interrupted. Steve nodded.

Sadie looked surprised. "Oh. My. Gosh. I did _not_ think of that. Um, which one of you doesn't want any friends?"

Nobody stepped forward for half a minute.

Ruby sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."

Ruby stepped forward, and Sadie grinned.

"Super!" Sadie said. "And to make it fair, Ruby gets immunity tonight!"

Ruby's eyes widened in shock. "What? No, no, nonono. I don't want immunity."

"Don't be silly!" Sadie said perkily. "I don't want two best friends to decide to vote you off!"

"I do!" Ruby protested.

Sadie smiled. "Aw, it's nice of you to care so much about your teammates, but nobody wants to go home."

"But–" Ruby started to say.

"Okay, fine," Aunt Grandma said. "So I'm supposed to be best friends with Steve. What are we supposed to do for the challenge?"

Sadie's eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. "Oh. My. Gosh. I did _not_ think of that!"

The dock fell silent for about half a minute.

"So..." Steve finally prompted.

"I don't know!" Sadie said. "I just thought that all of you should be best friends! Because best friends are like the most important thing in the world, more important even than cute boys, and cute boys are like _really_ important. So I guess you should do something friends do. Like dance! I dance with Katie all the time, and it's super fun. So everybody go off for an hour so that you can become best friends, then come to the stage and dance like friends do!"

"Anything else?" Boris asked sarcastically. "Like, I dunno, pairing us up?"

"Ooh!" Sadie squealed. "Right! Aunt Grandma, you and Steve are together. Boris, you're with Andy. And Numbuh Two, you go with Nazz! Ooh, this is going to be so fun! Now get going, and make some new best friends!"

* * *

Nazz led me away from everyone else. After we were off the docks and closer to the cabins, she slowed her pace.

"So where do you think we should practice?" Nazz asked me.

"We shouldn't," I said.

I turned to walk away, but Nazz grabbed my wrist to stop me. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

"No, we're practicing," Nazz said. "There's no way we can win without practice. So where should we do it?"

"I don't want to dance with you," I said. "I don't care if you want me to dance with you."

"The dock, then?" Nazz suggested. She looked behind her. "Nobody's on it anymore."

"You're not listening!" I said angrily. "I'm not going to dance with you."

Nazz ignored me and dragged me down to the dock. Once there, she released my wrist.

"So, show me what you've got," she said. "Then I'll know what I have to work with."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not dancing."

Nazz groaned. "Really? Is this really how you're going to do this?"

"Do what?" I asked bitterly.

"Look, Ingrid wouldn't want you to give up," Nazz said.

"And how would you know?" I asked angrily.

"Because I shared a cabin with her for three weeks and was her friend for two of them," Nazz instantly responded. "And I know that she wouldn't want you to quit. She'd want you to keep trying for the money. She was expecting me to keep trying this season even though we both knew I'd be gone as soon as she could make it happen. She'd expect the same from you."

"So?" I asked belligerently.

"So, you know that you're getting voted off as soon as we can make it happen, unless you can make some new friends," Nazz said. "And that's not going to happen until the merge. The way I see it, your only option is to win until the merge." She turned her back on me. "Or you can give up, lose, and leave me with one fewer opponent to deal with. Especially with how you treated Boris."

She's right. Nazz is actually right about this.

"Fine," I said. "So what kind of a dance am I supposed to do?"

She crossed her arms. "Just dance so I can see how talented you are."

I began dancing.

"Okay, no, no, no," Nazz said after five seconds. "Too much arms, not enough hips, and what were you even doing with your legs? Getting you to dance correctly is going to be almost impossible. The good news is, I have an hour to work a miracle."

"Okay, no no no," I said angrily. "Fuck you."

* * *

 _Confessional_

"Gah!" I said. "This is a total waste of my time! If Nazz wants to kick me out, fine. But I am _not_ letting her humiliate me."

* * *

Nazz and I showed up at the stage separately. As soon as she saw me, she walked over quickly.

"You'd better not lose this," she said angrily.

"Why?" I asked. "Not so secure in your alliance after all?"

Nazz glared at me. "At least I have an alliance."

"And at least I'm not hated by everybody on this island," I retorted.

"Me and Boris," Nazz said. "That's two of six people. Andy might count too, seeing as you got him kicked off last time."

"Oh, well, it's a good thing I'm not planning on going much farther in this game," I said. "You win, Nazz. Good job."

"What?" Nazz asked, confused.

"You win," I said. "You got Ingrid off the island, and you're gonna kick me off as soon as possible. But when the merge comes, good luck keeping your alliance together. I'm pretty sure nobody here really likes you, not even the people on your side, and once they see they're better off without you, well..."

"That's–that's not true!" Nazz said, flustered.

"Oh, but it is," I said. "They're gonna figure out that you're dragging them down. They probably have already, and they're just going along with you because they think I'm a bigger threat. But if you want to win it all, you pretty much have to win immunity every single game after I leave the island."

"Yeah, well, at least I'll stick around longer!" Nazz said angrily. "You and Ingrid telegraphed that you wanted me gone at the first opportunity!"

"So you voted for Boris?" I asked. This was coming together better than I thought.

Something shifted in Nazz's eyes. "No. I voted for Ingrid. _You_ voted for Boris."

She's lying. She probably doesn't know that Boris played her, but she definitely voted Boris off. Andy probably voted with her. I don't know how Boris knew they were going to do this, and maybe he didn't, but everything worked out just the way he wanted.

"Okay!" Sadie squealed. "Everybody, get together, and dance!"

Sadie turned on a boom box, and a sugary pop song boomed out of the speakers. I started dancing the way I always do, and Nazz looked at me, disgusted. She swiftly changed her expression and started dancing as well, though, and we danced our way through the song. As we did, I looked around. Andy was dancing with Boris but looking uncomfortable and trying to keep him at arms length, while Steve and Aunt Grandma looked like they wanted to strangle each other. I continued dancing, plastering a fake smile on my face as the music continued to play.

Eventually it came to a stop, and we all stopped dancing. Sadie looked disappointed.

"Um, okay," Sadie said awkwardly. "Aunt Grandma and Steve, you guys didn't seem like you became friends. Boris, you and Andy seemed like you weren't friends but wanted to be something more, which is almost as good."

"WHAT?" Boris and Andy said in unison.

"But Nazz and Numbuh Two, you two totally looked like you were having fun and were really friends!" Sadie continued. "So, I guess you guys win!"

"WHAT?" all of us said in unison.

"Yeah," Sadie said sadly. "I guess none of you guys really became best friends, but Nazz and Numbuh Two at least tried. So they win."

"That's right!" Chris said, swooping in. "And tonight, the Overthought Reboots will drop from three players to two! And it's all going to hinge on the immune Ruby Gloom!"


	20. The Cool Guy

**Enter...  
RUBY GLOOM**

I can't believe we lost again. Actually, I can believe it, I can believe it all too easily, but I can't believe that we lost again and I'm not even going to get to go home. That's all I really want to do, is go home. I'm not having any fun in this game at all, but instead I'm going to be stuck here for at least the next day, maybe even longer if we win some more. And I admit that it's mostly my fault that I'm not getting voted off tonight. I was the one who volunteered not to make any friends, even though I do want to be friends with Aunt Grandma and Steve, but neither of them were stepping forward so I thought that maybe if they were able to make friends with each other they might want to be friends with me too and then we'd all be friends instead of them constantly glaring at each other and making passive-aggressive comments when they're both in the same space as me and aggressive-aggressive comments about the other one when one of them is alone with me.

It's worse this time around, and that's what's really aggravating. The first time around, I was able to get out when I realized that everybody was taking the competition too seriously and forgetting about their friends. But this time it's even worse, because nobody's actually friends and everybody's focused on winning above everything else and to make things even worse even though nobody but me wants to leave the island I'm the one who never seems to get voted out even thought I've made it clear I want to go home! And I can't do anything to help anybody, I mean I've tried, but nobody seems to want to be nice or friendly or to even tolerate each other, at least on my team, since I can't speak for the other team, but I've seen them and it seems like they're all just waiting to stab each other in the back and I'm not sure whether that's better or worse.

So I left. As soon as the winner was announced, I got out of there before Steve or Aunt Grandma could talk to me. I know that wasn't the nicest or most friendly thing to do, but being nice and friendly hasn't helped anything and I didn't really want to hear Steve and Aunt Grandma try to convince me to vote off the other one. Neither of them wants to leave, and neither of them has done anything to deserve to leave–or maybe they have, but I don't know what it is, and either way I can't decide who to vote for. And I'm not sure if I even care anymore, since they don't care about what I want.

I know that's overly negative, but it's hard to look on the bright side or even the just-barely-enough light side when there doesn't seem to be one. Everybody seems to be angry at each other, and nothing I do to try and make people be friendly or even just civil seems to work. And I don't know what to do anymore, and I'm not sure I should even care. So instead, here I am, lying on the grass on the cliffside, staring up at the sky through the trees. It's probably as effective as talking to Steve or Aunt Grandma.

Dinner will be at six-fifteen, which means I have a few hours left to figure it out. Maybe I'll know what to do by then.

* * *

At dinner I still hadn't figured out what to do. Steve was sitting on my right, Aunt Grandma was sitting on my left, and they were both looking at me expectantly rather than glaring at each other. I don't know why, but this actually felt worse.

"So, Ruby," Steve eventually said. "You're voting off Aunt Grandma tonight, right?"

"Please, that's ridiculous," Aunt Grandma said before he could answer. "I contribute much more than Steve, right Ruby? Steve should be the one to go home."

"Well–" I started to say.

Steve snorted. "Right, you contribute so much. Unfortunately, all you contribute is losses."

"Why you little–you're the most useless member of any team I've ever been on, and yes I am including last year's team!" Aunt Grandma said angrily.

"The one where they wised up and kicked you out first?" Steve asked. "Ruby, you voted her off then, correct? Why not do it again?"

"They only voted me off first because they had no idea of what I could do!" Aunt Grandma yelled. "Ruby knows what I can do now, and you're the one going home!"

"No, you are!" Steve yelled back. "Ruby is actually my friend, right?"

"No, she's _my_ friend!" Aunt Grandma yelled.

They both looked at me. I quivered under their stares.

"I have to go to the bathroom!" I quickly said, getting up from the table and running out of the mess hall. As soon as I was away from the building, I climbed up a tree and sat down on a branch to think. Neither of them were being very nice, and both of them were letting their mean sides out. I know it was just stress, but I really kind of wanted both of them to go home if I couldn't. Steve said he was my friend, but he obviously never voted me off like I asked him too. Aunt Grandma never pretended to be my friend or tried to vote me off until now, when I could be useful to her. As much as I hate to say it, I think they're both users, and they're both just using me. But they both want to win, and I don't know whether I can favor one over the other. It's not that neither or both of them deserve to go, it's that I don't think I should be the one deciding this.

I looked down and noticed Steve heading towards the voting booth. He glanced over his shoulder and then hurried on his way. I guess it's time to vote, and I still don't know who to pick. I could just stay here, right? Nobody's making me vote. And Chris might use my not voting as an excuse to kick me off.

No. That's the coward's way out.

Aunt Grandma walked by my tree, and I jumped down behind her. She started and looked, but relaxed when she saw it was only me.

"Ah, Ruby," she said. "Just who I was looking for."

Great. Here comes the sales pitch.

"You know, I've always tried to vote you out," she said. "Because you asked me to, of course. Not because you're not a valuable member of the team. But now, I'll need you to do me a favor."

"What's that?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

She knelt down so we were at eye level. "Vote for Steve. We both know he's only holding us back."

I looked away. "I'll think about it."

Aunt Grandma opened her mouth to say more but decided against it and we continued on our way to the confessional just as the door flew open, revealing a nervous-looking Steve.

"Oh!" he said when he saw us. "Uh, hi. Ruby, we're friends, right? Please vote for Aunt Grandma. She doesn't deserve to win. So, uh, see you at the campfire."

Steve took off. Aunt Grandma scowled and entered the booth.

Okay. After all that, I still don't know who to vote for.

* * *

We were at the campfire for less than a minute when a tall guy with a huge forehead showed up.

"Hey guys, I'm Trent," he said, looking at us with calm green eyes. "And I guess I'm giving out marshmallows today."

"And that's not all!" Chris interrupted. "Not only will Trent be giving out marshmallows, but there's also a banquet set up for the two of you that stay on, and, as a special treat for our viewers, Trent will be reading out the votes, not just telling you who won!" He gestured to a large table with a bunch of food set out on it. "Now take it away, Trent!"

"Okay, yeah," Trent said. He chuckled. "So, Ruby, I understand you're safe. Here's a sweet treat for a sweet girl."

Trent tossed me a marshmallow. Honestly, the marshmallows are the one bright spot about constantly being kept on in this game. He reached into a box behind the podium and pulled out a voting sheet.

"And the first vote is against...Aunt Grandma," Trent said.

Aunt Grandma scowled. Trent reached back into the box and pulled out another sheet.

"The second vote is against...Steve," Trent said.

Steve scowled as well. He and Aunt Grandma glared at each other as Trent pulled out the last ballot, read it, and looked up, confused.

"Uh, guys? This one is blank," he said.

Aunt Grandma and Steve slowly turned their heads to look at me.

I shrugged. "I couldn't decide."

"Well that's just great!" Chris complained. "Thanks to you, nobody will be going home tonight!"

Steve and Aunt Grandma cheered.

"All right!" Trent said, pumping his fist.

"But, since nobody's going home, say goodbye to the banquet!" Chris said.

Chef poured a bunch of lighter fluid over the table, pulled out a match, and set it aflame.

"So, the Overthought Reboots lose but somehow don't send anybody home," Chris said to a camera. "What's going to happen when the Predictable Formulas find out that all three of their opponents are still here? What stupid challenge will our next incredibly lame returning contestant come up with? And will the poor decision to have these former contestants host drop our ratings completely into the toilet? Find out next time, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Steve: Aunt Grandma  
Ruby: Blank/no vote  
Aunt Grandma: Steve

Final tally of votes cast:

No vote/Undecided: 1  
Steve: 1  
Aunt Grandma: 1


	21. The Devious

**Enter...  
BORIS BADENOV**

I was halfway through my breakfast when I finally sensed that something was wrong. When I looked up, my suspicions were confirmed. Somehow, the Overthought Reboots still had the same three members on their team that were there the previous day.

I thought about going over to ask why they were still all there, but before I could make any move to do so, the doors were flung open and a redheaded man wearing a white undershirt and blue jeans walked in, smiling wickedly. He gazed around the room, looking over all of us before opening his mouth to speak.

"So you guys are the new cast, huh?" he asked. "Funny, I thought Chris would want to _upgrade_ after the walking trash pile that was Pahkitew Island."

We looked at him, shocked that he'd say something like this.

"So, I heard that Beth and Sadie tried to make you all be friends," he said slickly. "That's why I'm here. Originally, I was supposed to come in after the merge, do something to get you all at each other's throats and make the show more interesting. But, since the friendship challenges were so lame, they decided to bring me in now and get you all to backstab each other."

"Um, Scott?" Nazz asked. "What's your point?"

"Yeah," Numbuh Two said bitterly. "Our team is _full_ of backstabbers."

Numbuh Two looked at me pointedly as he said this. I glared right back at him. As if he had any right to complain about my inevitable backstab. He and Ingrid tried to backstab me before I could backstab them. No way does he get to call me a backstabber after that, when he made my turning on them a matter of self-defense.

"Well that's just great," Scott said. "Because as usual, the losing team has to vote somebody off. _But_ , if someone on that team decides to throw the game and make their team lose, they get immunity...and _two_ votes."

Everybody snapped to attention when they heard this. I glanced over to Numbuh Two. This could be important if he really wanted it. With two votes and immunity, he could put one of us on the block, and it would only take one person voting with him for him to win. Even if nobody voted with him, he'd still force a tie between two players.

But on the other hand, if _I_ get that prize, I'm in control. And that means that no matter what, Numbuh Two is gone _tonight_. I don't have to worry about the impending merge, I don't have to worry about whether he can muster support from other people, I just get rid of him here and now. As a born and bred Pottsylvanian, I am a master of backstabbing. Stabbing my team in the back today should be simple and easy, and it will give me everything I want.

"I thought that'd get your attention," Scott said. "Now, it's a little late in the day for breakfast, seeing as I ate before I got here, but I'm starting to feel a bit peckish, so how about y'all fix me some lunch."

Nobody moved.

"Uh, that was your challenge," Scott said. "And don't worry. Chef stocked up with everything you might need to make a decent meal."

Everybody stampeded for the kitchen. Bringing up the rear, I smirked. If Scott wanted a good meal, he was going to get anything but.

* * *

"Okay, guys," Nazz said. "What can we make?"

Nazz had pulled us all over to one corner of the kitchen to discuss strategy. The Overthought Reboots were doing the same thing on the other side of the room.

"I can cook a mean steak," Numbuh Two said. "Medium-rare, juicy, tender, and seasoned for the perfect blend of sweet and spice."

Nazz stared at him blankly. "I don't know what you're planning to do, but I approve. I can do mashed potatoes. Those should go well with the steak."

"And I'm on dessert," I quickly said. I needed to have a position where I actually made food if I was going to sabotage us.

"Good," Nazz said. "Andy, do you have any ideas?"

Andy shrugged. "I'm really not much of a cook at all."

"Then you're our gofer," Nazz said. "You find us what we need."

"Got it," Andy said.

We all stood around awkwardly. Nazz rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Andy, get me three potatoes, two cloves of garlic, a stick of butter, and a big pot," Nazz said. "Get the pot first so I can fill it with water."

"Sure," Andy said. "Just one question. What's a clove?"

* * *

An hour later, everyone was hard at work. Nazz was getting everything ready so she could mash potatoes, Numbuh Two had just put the steak in to cook, and Andy was by my side, ready to help with anything I needed for the desert.

"Get me a cup of milk, a cup and a half of vanilla ice cream, and a blender," I told him. "I'll be right back after I get a bit of air."

I shuffled past my teammates and the Overthought Reboots and into the outdoor air. I took a deep breath just in case anybody was watching, and then looked around to make sure they weren't. Once I saw that I was alone, I pulled the measuring cup out of my jacket and jammed it into the ground by the cafeteria, pulling up a cup of mud. I shoved the full cup back into my jacket, took another breath, and walked back into the kitchen, pushing past the Overthought Reboots as I made my way over to the blender Andy had retrieved.

"I got what you wanted," Andy said. "So, uh, what're you making?"

I grinned. "A delicious milkshake. Oh! Could you get me the chocolate sauce?"

"No problem," Andy said.

Andy disappeared into the back, and I looked around again. Numbuh Two had just pulled the steak out of the oven and was happily examining it as it cooled, while Nazz was hard at work mashing the potatoes and mixing milk, butter, and garlic into them. Neither of them were paying any attention to me, so I quickly dumped the milk and ice cream into the blender. I cast another quick look around and then dumped the dirt into the blender. I started blending, and very soon, I had a dirt-filled milkshake ready to serve. I poured it into a tall glass.

"Hey," Ruby said. I looked over to her. "Do you need this stuff?"

Ruby held out a canister of whipped cream and some chocolate sauce. I grinned.

"Thanks, Ruby," I told her. "This will definitely be useful."

I topped the glass with whipped cream just as Andy came back.

"Okay, I couldn't find the chocolate sauce anywhere–hey, how'd you finish that?" he asked.

"Ruby had it," I explained. "So I just spritzed some in, and here we are."

"Oh, good," Andy said.

Nazz clapped her hands. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready!" Numbuh Two said happily.

"Ready!" I said, presenting my milkshake.

"Ready!" Steve said, standing next to a bowl of salad.

"Ready!" Ruby added, gesturing to her sundae.

"Ready!" Aunt Grandma said, pulling a pan of lasagna out of the oven.

Andy shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

* * *

Both teams brought the food out to Scott at the same time. As soon as the food was set down in front of him, Scott rubbed his hands together.

"Well, that's a quite a spread we've got here," he said. "Let's see how it tastes!"

Scott dug in ravenously, tearing through the food quickly and sloppily. He got halfway through the main and side dishes in less than two minutes before finally coming up for air and taking a drink of my milkshake. As soon as it hit his taste buds, his eyes widened.

"Is this a dirtshake?" he asked, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Why yes, it is," I said.

"Just like Mama used to make!" Scott exclaimed, returning to his meal. It wasn't long until he finished everything and let out a long, rolling burp. He took out a toothpick and began working on his teeth with it.

"Well," he said, after belching again, "that Italian food was mighty fine, and I loved the steak, but I gotta say that the dirtshake put the Predictable Formulas over the top."

I faked a cheer along with the rest of my team.

"So, I guess the Predictable Formulas win an advantage in the next part of the challenge," Scott said. "Y'all get to use ice from the freezer!"

"How is that an advantage?" Nazz asked.

"It's an advantage because I want you to make me some lemonade, and you can't use any kitchen ingredients," Scott said. "Now I heard there were lemons somewhere on the island, and I guess there's probably some sugar somewhere. Now get moving!"

* * *

We left the kitchen together to discuss things in private.

"How the heck are we supposed to find lemons?" Andy complained. "I haven't seen a lemon tree anywhere! This is going to take forever!"

"Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad," Numbuh Two said. "We can still win this. Let's just find that lemon tree."

"Where?" Andy asked. "Do you see a lemon tree? Because I don't!"

Numbuh Two shrugged and pointed to the right. We all looked over and spotted the lemon tree.

"I'll take the lemons," Nazz said quickly. "Numbuh Two, Andy, you find some sugar. Boris, get the water."

"HEY!" Steve yelled. "THERE'S THE TREE!"

Nazz took off for the lemon tree at the same time as Steve did. I ran towards the shore, clutching our glass in our hands, and scooped up a big bunch of sand and water. I then ran back to where Nazz was waiting, grabbed the lemons she had waiting, and squeezed them into the glass, ignoring the seeds and skin that got mixed in. I tossed the crushed lemons over my shoulder and made a beeline towards the kitchen, where I raced over to the freezer and grabbed some ice. I poured it in and was about to exit the kitchen when I spotted a saltshaker on the counter and got a brilliant idea. I grinned wickedly, grabbed the saltshaker, and dumped an excessive dose into the drink. I then exited the kitchen with the glass of lemonade clutched tightly in my hand and gave it to Scott.

Scott looked at it suspiciously. "Uh, Boris, are you trying to throw the game?"

"No!" I denied. "Of course not! It's just delicious lemonade."

"It kinda looks like you put a bunch of sand in here," Scott said.

"Does it?" I asked, faking ignorance. "Or is it just the delicious lemon that's confusing you?"

Scott looked at me uncertainly. Suddenly, the doors flew open and Steve rushed in with a glass of lemonade in his hands. He almost made it to Scott before tripping and spilling lemonade all over Scott's jeans. Scott leapt out of his seat.

"UGH!" he complained. "I'm–I'm all sticky! You got me all sticky! And it's gonna attract ants!" He stared between his crotch and me and then heaved a sigh. "Fine. The Predictable Formulas win this round too."

The rest of my team arrived just as Scott proclaimed our victory. They let out a reluctant cheer while staring at me suspiciously.

"And for your reward, you get to choose somebody to sit out of your next challenge: a relay race," Scott said. "Choose wisely!"

Scott cackled. The rest of my teammates looked at me and grinned. I gulped and grinned back nervously.

* * *

"This is so unfair!" I complained.

"So is trying to throw the challenge and stabbing people in the back," Numbuh Two said dryly.

I gasped. "You think I was trying to throw the challenge?"

"It _was_ pretty obvious," Nazz said. "So just sit back, relax, and enjoy us winning."

"Fine," I said grumpily.

The others discussed strategy, but I tuned them out as I surveyed the course. It wasn't that long, maybe five hundred meters at most. Not so long that it would take forever to cross, but long enough that it would be a bit tiring to run the whole course.

"Okay, take your positions," Nazz said. "Boris, you just–go to the side of the course or something."

I did as she asked, watching as Numbuh Two and Andy headed to their positions. Numbuh Two lined up about halfway down the course, and Andy lined up pretty close to the end. It was then that I got a brilliant idea that could win me immunity and a double vote.

I crept along the side of the racetrack as Scott walked past me towards the finish line.

"Looks like you're not getting immunity, shorty," he said. "That's what you deserve for making me such horrible lemonade."

Scott took a sip of the lemonade, choked, and spat it out.

"Why did I do that?" he asked himself angrily.

I ignored him and continued until I was about two thirds of the way down the course. Scott made his way to the end of the course and stood there, grinning.

"Go!" he yelled.

Nazz and Steve took off at the same time. They both reached the next person at about the same time. Unfortunately, Numbuh Two was halfway down the course while Ruby was about a third of the way. Numbuh Two took the stick and began running. It was then that I made my move, charging into the track and hurling myself at Numbuh Two's knees.

He went down, and I clung to him as he tried to get to his feet and move forward. I spotted Andy running towards us to take the stick, but Ruby passed him before he could reach us. Even though Numbuh Two tossed him the stick once he got close enough, by then it was too late, as Ruby handed the stick to Aunt Grandma, who took off for the finish line and easily won.

* * *

"Well, that's all," Scott said.

He had gathered us all by the dock. The boat pulled up behind him.

"So, the Overthought Reboots win," Scott said. "But, Boris was the one who did the most to sabotage his team, so he gets immunity and two votes tonight. And I have to say, with the way Beth and one of the Giggle Twins was talking, I thought you'd be a lot more...backstabby. Oh well. At least one of you turned on his teammates, so have fun with that. I've gotta get back to the farm."

And with that, Scott jumped into the boat. I grinned victoriously.

Tonight, Numbuh Two was going to go home.


	22. The Party Guy

As the boat left Wawanakwa with Scott aboard, the members of both teams looked at their teammates suspiciously. The Predictable Formulas were the first to leave, splitting up in order to go their own ways. The Overthought Reboots, meanwhile, all left at the same time, but in the same direction: the showers.

Although the Predictable Formulas had split, two of them had the same destination in mind, and although they used different routes to get there they arrived at the door to their cabin at the same time. Andy stared at Boris angrily, but Boris pretended not to notice as he opened the door and walked into the empty cabin.

Andy followed him in, still angry. "What the hell was that?"

Boris sat down on his bed. "What was what?"

"You threw the challenge, that's what!" Andy said angrily. "What, you don't think it would've been better to win?"

Boris grinned. "Andy, Andy, Andy. Did you notice anybody missing today?"

"No," Andy said, sounding slightly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday, three people went to the elimination ceremony for the Overthought Reboots," Boris said. "Today, all three of them were still there. What do you think happened?"

"I–I don't know!" Andy said angrily. "What does it matter?"

"Well, I've been thinking," Boris said. "We're down to seven players, right?"

"Right..." Andy said slowly.

"And if the teams are going to merge, obviously it's going to happen pretty soon," Boris said. "So let me ask you who you trust."

"Trust?" Andy asked. "What do you mean, who do I trust?"

"I mean, look around our team," Boris said. "Nazz, who manipulated everybody last season. Numbuh Two, who stabbed me in the back, or at least tried to this season. You, who worked with Snidely."

"Hey, that was an mistake!" Andy said angrily. "Quit holding it against me!"

Boris grinned. "And me. I threw today's game for immunity and two votes. Which of us can be trusted?"

Andy's expression soured. "You're saying none of us can be trusted."

"That applies to the other team too," Boris said. "I'm pretty sure they have their own trust issues. But would you like to let them choose who to get rid of...or would you rather get to choose."

Comprehension dawned on Andy. "You're saying that you get to choose who goes home tonight."

"Because none of us can be trusted," Boris said. "Now who do you want to send home?"

* * *

 _Confessional_

"Okay, I was not expecting Boris to let me decide who we get rid of," Andy said. "But he makes a lot of sense. I mean, Nazz is definitely the biggest threat left in the game."

* * *

Andy looked around nervously and then stepped closer to Boris. "Nazz," he said quietly.

Boris grinned. "So tonight, you'll vote for Nazz?"

"Yes," Andy said. "Will you?"

"Of course!" Boris said. "So long as we vote off Numbuh Two the next chance we get."

"Deal," Andy said.

* * *

 _Confessional_

"Something's not right here," Nazz said. "I mean, it was going to be a win-win all around for Boris. If we win, they have to kick somebody off and we go up four-two unless Chris decided to keep all of them around again. If we lost without sabotage, Numbuh Two goes home. But with sabotage that _wasn't_ done by Numbuh Two, he'd go home as well. So there's no way that it makes sense for Boris to trip us up."

Nazz sat in the confessional booth, still thinking. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she gasped.

"Crap!" she exclaimed. "He's trying to pull a Chaz!"

* * *

Boris was alone in the cabin when a knock came on the door.

"Come in!" Boris called, not bothering to look up from his book of instructions for making improvised bombs.

Numbuh Two popped his head in. "Hey, Boris. Uh, doing some light reading?"

Boris smirked. "You could say that."

Numbuh Two sat down on his bed and looked at Boris nervously. "So, uh, why'd you need two votes?"

"Why do you think?" Boris asked.

Numbuh Two deflated. "To vote me off."

Boris's smirk grew deeper. "Actually, I've been doing some thinking."

Numbuh Two looked up, surprised. "About what?"

"Well, maybe I was a little hard on you," Boris said. "After all, I shouldn't be upset that you stabbed me in the back."

"But I didnt!" Numbuh Two complained.

"Oh really?" Boris asked. "Then who did?"

Numbuh Two glared at him. "You did."

The smirk dropped off Boris's face, replaced with a stony frown. Boris slammed his book shut and walked out of the room.

"Boris, wait!" Numbuh Two called.

The only response he got was the door slamming shut.

* * *

 _Confessional_

"The _nerve_ of that boy!" Boris complained. " _I_ stabbed myself in the back? We have five people on our team, we're in an alliance together with Ingrid, and then he decides to vote me out and _I'm_ the backstabber?"

Boris breathed heavily before calming down. A sinister smile asserted itself on his face.

"Well, if he wants to play it like that," Boris mused, "I believe he deserves everything he gets."

* * *

 _Confessional_

"I don't get it!" Numbuh Two complained. "I thought he'd be bragging about how he played us by figuring out it was a non-elimination ceremony and using that as an excuse! I thought he'd totally admit that yes, he played me, and he's proud of himself! I did _not_ expect him to storm off like that. Is he really not going to tell anybody about how he pulled off his plan? That–that totally goes against every rule in the evil villain's handbook! He has to do the evil villain monologue!"

* * *

Nazz was sunning herself on the beach when Boris walked up to her. It took her five minutes to notice him, but when she did she quickly sat up and scooted a few feet away from him.

"What do you want?" Nazz asked worriedly.

Boris grinned. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Nazz asked uncertainly.

"Tell me, do you trust Andy?" he asked.

Nazz's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know."

"Oh, I dunno," Boris said slickly. "Why do you _think_ I want to know?"

Nazz shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Is this about you throwing the challenge today?"

"Perhaps," Boris said. "It's a little more complicated than that, but you're on the right track."

Nazz stared at him with unblinking eyes. "What's this about, Boris?"

Boris grinned. "Andy wants to vote you off."

Nazz tensed up. "And?"

"And I told him I'd do it," Boris said. "But I take it you don't want that."

A few seconds passed where neither of them said or did anything–enough time for Nazz to realize he wasn't bluffing.

"You're blackmailing me," Nazz said. It wasn't a question.

"Oh, blackmail is such an ugly word," Boris said. "Really, all I'm doing is proposing we make a deal. And I'm just pointing out that I have all the leverage here and you have none. And implying that if you don't do what I say, you'll be going home for sure. So really, it's not blackmail at all. It's extortion."

Nazz glared at him. "I thought you were one of the good guys."

Boris broke into a fit of laughter that took a long time to subside. When he finally stopped laughing, he saw Nazz still glaring at him.

"Something you should know is that sometimes the good guys and the bad guys team up," Boris said. "Only when it's to the bad guys' benefit, of course. But it happens. Just as sometimes, the bad guys team up even though none of them really like each other."

"Fine," Nazz said. "Then I'll ask you again. What do you want, Boris?"

Boris looked her straight in the eyes. "Numbuh Two."

A few seconds passed before Nazz spoke again.

"You want me to cast the vote I was going to cast anyway?" she asked incredulously.

"That's right," Boris said.

"Then why–" Nazz started to say.

"Because if Numbuh Two goes down, it'll be _without_ Andy's vote," Boris said. "And if Andy was willing to vote you off tonight, even though he doesn't have any other allies, imagine what he'll do the next time he gets a chance to vote you off. Face it, Nazz. I'm the only one you can even offer a tiny bit of trust to on this island, because I'm the only one who sees you as an asset. As long as you're here, you're the biggest target. You're the one who manipulated everyone on the way to the finale last season, you're the one who sided with Snidely _this_ season, and you're the one who somehow made it to the merge when Ingrid, Wendy, and Numbuh Two didn't. You are the biggest threat to everyone here, and that keeps me safe. So yes, it helps me to have you around. But make no mistake: I only want to keep you around because it benefits me. The instant you become a threat to me, personally? Well, let's just say that _you_ can't survive long without any allies."

As Boris explained his thinking, Nazz's expression slowly went from one of shock to one of frightened realization. By the time he had finished, her attention was completely on him, waiting for him to continue, but Boris merely folded his arms behind his back and grinned.

"So you're saying I have no choice," Nazz finally said.

"Correct," Boris said.

"My only option is to make a deal with you," Nazz continued.

"That's right," Boris said.

Nazz extended her right hand. "Deal."

Boris extended his right hand as well and shook it. "Deal."

What Nazz didn't notice was that Boris had crossed his fingers behind his back while shaking hands with her.

* * *

Boris sauntered towards the cabin, looking incredibly pleased with himself. When he got to the door, however, he took a deep breath, dropped the confident manner, and gently opened the door.

"Numbuh Two?" he called softly.

"What?" Numbuh Two asked.

Boris stepped inside and shut the door. "Good, you're here."

"Where else would I be?" Numbuh Two asked, trying to sound suave.

"Beats me," Boris said. "But I've been thinking, and I've decided that we should team up again for old times' sake."

"So..." Numbuh Two said warily.

"Tonight, Nazz," Boris said. "Are you interested?"

Numbuh Two grinned. "Sure am, buddy."

Boris returned his grin. "Let's do it, buddy."

* * *

 _Confessional_

"It's weird that Boris would have a change of heart, storm out, and then come back to enlist my help in voting off Nazz," Numbuh Two mused. "But hey, I'm not gonna complain."

* * *

 _Confessional_

Boris rubbed his hands together wickedly and grinned at the camera.

* * *

For once, when the campers showed up at the firepit, there was somebody already waiting to greet them.

"Hey, Numbuh Two!" Owen greeted the first person to show up. "How ya doin'?"

"Fine, thanks," Numbuh Two said, confidently taking a seat on one of the stumps. "And you are?"

Owen laughed. "I'm Owen! I was like, in the finale of the first season, and apparently people really like me. Oh, hey Nazz! People say you're mean, but I don't think you're that bad."

Nazz smiled and waved to him. Owen grinned. Andy walked past.

"Andy, my man!" Owen said happily. "Hi-five?"

"Sure thing," Andy said, slapping Owen's outstretched palm.

"Woohooo!" Owen cheered, pumping his fist as Boris showed up. "Boris! Hey!"

"Hello, um..." Boris said uncertainly.

"It's Owen!" Owen said happily. "And it is _great_ to see all of you here. Man, it's amazing that most of you made it to the merge."

The campers gasped.

"Owen!" Chris said angrily, stepping out from behind a tree. "You weren't supposed to tell them that! It was a secret!"

Owen cringed. "Right. Sorry. Uh, you guys weren't supposed to hear that until tomorrow. Anyway! I'm like, totally stoked to be back here! And I get to toss out marshmallows! It's so awesome!"

"Right," Chris said flatly. "Just get to tossing."

"Okay!" Owen said. "The first marshmallow goes to Boris, and the second one goes to Andy." He chuckled as he looked at a nervous Nazz and Numbuh Two. "Aw, don't worry, guys. Even if you lose it's not the end of the world. But it's the end of the game for one of you." Owen held up a marshmallow. "Only one of you gets to eat this delectable, delicious, sweet, gooey, yummy, super-delicious..."

Owen trailed off and stared at the marshmallow with wide eyes for a few seconds before popping it into his mouth.

"OWEN!" Chris complained.

"Oops!" Owen said through a mouthful of marshmallow. He chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, well, uh, Numbuh Two goes home, right?"

"Yes," Chris said, sounding annoyed. "Thanks for taking all the suspense out of it."

"Wait, what?" Numbuh Two asked, shocked. "Boris, I thought we had a deal!"

Boris grinned evilly and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Serves you right for trying to vote me off."

"Numbuh Two never tried to vote you off," Owen said. The instant he realized what he'd said, he clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late. Everyone but Numbuh Two looked at him with wide eyes.

"I knew it!" Numbuh Two exclaimed. "I knew Boris heard it wasn't an elimination ceremony and voted himself off so he'd have an excuse to leave our alliance without getting kicked out!"

"I never did that!" Boris said angrily. He paused. "Although it does sound like a good idea."

"Hold on," Andy said. "This has been driving me crazy for the past three days. _How_ did Boris get voted off if Numbuh Two didn't vote for him?"

Owen looked around awkwardly. Chris groaned and ran his hand down his face.

"Go ahead, Owen," Chris said, annoyed. "Go ahead and tell them what happened."

"Okay, so, uh, that vote was rigged," Owen said. Everybody gasped. "By Chris!" Owen quickly amended. "He wanted to make the show more dramatic, so he told Sam to make sure the final two were Boris and Ingrid and then give Ingrid the final marshmallow."

"So who voted for who?" Boris asked.

"I think Nazz and Andy voted for you, and everyone else voted for Nazz," Owen said.

Chris nodded.

"So wait," Boris said. "Are you telling me that Nazz and Andy tried to get me kicked off, and I've been siding with them all this time, just because _Chris_ wanted to make the show more dramatic?"

"Y-yeah?" Owen said awkwardly.

Boris turned his glare on Nazz and Andy, both of whom shrank back.

" _You. Will. Pay,_ " he told them.

"So lemme get this straight," Numbuh Two said unhappily. "I lost because Chris forged the results?"

"Hey, it wasn't an elimination ceremony," Chris defended himself. "And I prefer to call it 'creative editing.'"

Numbuh Two groaned and heaved himself to his feet. "Fine. I'm going. But Boris?"

"Yes?" Boris said, not taking his angry gaze off of Andy and Nazz.

"Make sure neither of these two win this, okay?"

A sinister grin spread across Boris's face. "You can count on me."

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Numbuh Two: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Numbuh Two  
Andy French: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Boris Badenov: Numbuh Two  
Boris Badenov: Numbuh Two

Final tally of votes cast:

Numbuh Two: 3  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 2


	23. The Female Bully

**Enter...  
NAZZ VAN BARTONSCHMEER**

I honestly was not expecting that.

Maybe I should've realized that something was wrong when Boris got a majority of the votes. Even Andy was suspicious about that. But I thought I had just happened to guess right about Boris going down that night. Instead, apparently it was just Chris messing with us. Again.

So here I am, making it to the merge but with plenty of enemies. Boris isn't happy with me, Andy probably tried to vote me out tonight, and I don't really know anybody on the other side but I doubt any of them would want to help me.

I know it's my fault. Working behind the scenes to get people to do what I wanted almost worked out, but I wouldn't be shocked if they all hate me now. I mean, this time around I've only stayed alive by working with other people while _they_ pretty much call the shots. The best position I ever had was when Boris and Andy were on my side, but that only happened because of Chris and it's no longer going to happen thanks to Owen.

Blaming Owen is probably unfair, since if Chris and Sam hadn't lied about the vote I would've gone home soon anyway. It's not that I don't wish Owen was able to keep his mouth shut, since if he could I might actually stand a chance of making it farther in this game. But just by looking at the facts, I'm probably dead in the water, because I can't see _any_ path for me to make it to the finale.

Oh well. Maybe things will look better in the morning.

* * *

 _I'm in a restaurant. Or a church. No, no it's definitely a restaurant, even though it looks like a church. I mean, there's stained glass windows and pews and–well, everything that makes a church look like a church, but there are also waitresses all over the place, and although there aren't many people here the ones who are here are sitting together and eating._

 _I sit down in a pew and watch as the waitresses in their blue-striped shirts and black skirts move around. Strangely, none of them have memorable faces, or maybe it's more accurate to say that their faces are all forgotten the instant they turn away. There's something indistinct about all of them._

 _I sit watching people eat and talk and be served as the clock ticks over to 5:03. Suddenly, a hand lands on the table in front of me. The red nail polish is worn and chipped, and as I look up at the waitress I notice that despite her blonde hair I can tell she has brown roots. She looks at me with electric purple eyes and exhales a cloud of cigarette smoke without removing the cigarette from her lips._

 _"What's it gonna be?"_

 _I blink. "Sorry?"_

 _The redhead moves her eyes down to my menu. I look down and see her hand is holding it onto the table. Her nail polish is teal and perfect, except for her pinky. For some reason, there's no polish on that finger._

 _"What're you gonna have, sugar?" she asks in a Southern accent._

 _I scan the menu and then look up at the punkish waitress taking my order. She grins, revealing that she even has braces on her teeth in addition to the multitude of eyebrow rings, nose studs, and lip rings._

 _"I guess I'll have the eggs," I say._

 _"And how do you want them cooked?" the waitress says in a British accent._

 _"Scrambled, I guess," I tell her._

 _The waitress smiles, her grey eyes lighting up as she does so. "They'll be right out."_

 _The waitress takes her blue-nailed hand away and takes my menu with it as she walks away. I watch her leave and don't really know why. Somebody sits down next to me in the pew._

 _"Tell me you're one of the few people on this island willing to listen to me," the new arrival says in a monotone. I turn towards her and look into brown eyes framed by black hair with streaks of purple._

 _Triana._

 _"What do you mean?" I ask. "Wait, how did you even get here?"_

 _Triana rolls her eyes. "What time is it?"_

 _I look at the clock. "Two thirty-two."_

 _Triana nods. "Good. I'm not too late."_

 _"Too late for what?" I ask._

 _"Listen, Nazz," Triana says, "I know we're not friends or anything, but I need your help."_

 _I quirk an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I help you?"_

 _"We weren't close," Triana says by way of explanation._

 _I take a sip of my coffee and gag. I hate coffee._

 _"That's probably for the best," I manage to choke out. "Everybody who was close kinda hates me now."_

 _Triana rolls her eyes. "I saw the season too, y'know. Look, something weird is going on here."_

 _"Really? What?" I ask._

 _"I don't know," she admits. "Just–if you see anything way out of the ordinary, or only slightly out of the ordinary–let me rephrase that. If you see something troubling, like Chris making a deal with a sinister figure, tell me. Then run."_

 _"Run from what?" I ask._

 _"I don't know," she says. "But I think the safest place for you–for most of us–is as far away from Chris as possible."_

 _She gets up and walks away. I look at the clock again._

 _3:22._

* * *

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I jerk myself out of bed to the sound of a car alarm and stumble outside, not caring that I'm in my pajamas. Chris and Chef are waiting, and once we're all outside, Chris signals for Chef to turn off the car alarm.

"Good morning, campers!" Chris says happily. "Contrary to popular belief, we're not dragging you out of bed this early in the day to torture you. Instead, we've got some news for you: the teams are merging today!"

Nobody reacts to this news. Chris frowns.

"Fine. Don't react," he says. "But, to make things more interesting, we've decided to switch things up by moving some players around."

I hope the girls all get shoved into the same cabin together. That might allow me to make some friends.

"Don't worry," Chris continues. "We're not putting you all together in the same cabin again. But, we _are_ going to switch people up so that things are more dramatic. So Ruby, you're moving in with Nazz."

We all wait for Chris to say who else is changing places. Chris grins.

"That's all."

"Wait, hold on," Andy says nervously. "Don't you want to move me, too? Y'know, get me away from this psycho?"

Boris grins nastily.

"Nah," Chris says. "If Boris brutally murders you in order to get his revenge, that'll mean great ratings!"

"Are you serious?" Andy asks incredulously. "You'd let me get _killed_ if your ratings went up?"

"Uh, duh!" Chris says. "Give me one reason why I wouldn't."

"Uh, Chris?" Chef says.

"What?" Chris snaps. He looks at Chef, who is holding up a small book. "Oh come on! Don't tell me that's part of the deal too!"

"Afraid so," Chef says. "We can't let anybody get killed, or else."

Chris groans. "Fine. Andy, you'll move in with Steve after the challenge today. Anybody else? No? Good. Get dressed and get down to the cafeteria for some breakfast. You're gonna need it for today's challenge!"

* * *

I walk into the cafeteria along with everybody else. Unfortunately, the food isn't ready yet, and even worse, Chris is waiting there for us.

"Campers!" he says happily. "Please, take a look at this!"

Chris points to the wall, where a bulletin board has been hung. Six pictures are tacked to it, forming a hexagon with a blank space in the middle. I'm the upper-left point of the hexagon.

"So what's this about?" I ask.

"Glad you asked!" Chris says happily. "You see, we decided that because you made it to the merge, we should put up your pictures on the wall. Y'know, to commemorate your accomplishment."

"Why's there that space in the middle?" Aunt Grandma asks.

Chris shrugs. "It's not like we could be accused of playing favorites by making anybody more prominent. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

Suddenly, I hear something whooshing through the air behind me. I duck, and hear something slam into the board. When I look up, I see a hatchet impaled, blade-first, in the picture of my face.

"Her, on the other hand...I'd worry about it if I were her," Chris continues, motioning to me. Nervously, I turn around.

FUCK.

"So, did you miss me?" Wendy snarls bitterly as she steps out of the kitchen.

"Heh, I knew we forgot somebody's picture," Chris says. "Chef?"

Chef walks over and tacks Wendy's picture in the middle of the hexagon.

"So, Wendy," Boris says nervously. "You look, um, healthy. How have you been?"

Wendy glares at him. "I haven't forgotten that you got me eliminated, Boris."

"Yes, well," Boris says awkwardly. "Sometimes, um, things happen that we can't control?"

"You'd better hope that nothing happens that _I_ can't control," Wendy says menacingly. "But I've got bigger fish to fry."

Wendy purposefully walks over to me and stops less than a foot away. As I stare up at her, I can't help but register that there's quite a difference between us in height, muscle, and ability to use a weapon. Despite this, I try to keep a calm look on my face and keep staring her in the eyes. It feels like we stare at each other for minutes, although I'm sure that it's only a few seconds before she turns away and walks over to one of the tables, taking a seat there but continuing to glare at me.

"So, Wendy is going to move in with Aunt Grandma," Chris says. "And that's not all, folks! In honor of the merge, tonight, you will be voting to decide who gets immunity in the _next_ campfire ceremony, and today's challenge will end with some other lucky player getting immunity for that ceremony. Now, Chef, if you could get them ready for today's challenge?"

Chef walks out of the kitchen and sets seven plates piled high with lasagna on the tables. Each one has a flag with the owner's face printed on it planted in the middle of the dish. Lucky me, I get placed next to Wendy.

I sit down next to her. Wendy glares at me when I do but doesn't say anything.

"Um, Chef?" Steve asks nervously. "What's with the lasagna?"

"IT'S MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, THAT'S WHAT!" Chef barks.

Chris holds a pacifying hand up. "Relax, Chef. I'll tell them." He turns to us. "It's for carboloading. Let's just say that today's challenge-giver is a bit of a jock."

Great. A physical challenge in a game where I'm up against Wendy. I'd much prefer something that uses brains, although if the jock happens to be a cheerleader like me, I might have a chance.

Wait. Why does the challenge matter anyway? Tonight's vote is for immunity.

* * *

Eva storms into the cafeteria the minute we finish eating. Ruby was actually the last to finish, which is unusual, since she inhales her meals most of the time.

"Alright, maggots," Eva snaps. "I hope you're all ready to get that pasta out of your systems, because it's weightlifting time!"

Shit.

"Hold on," Steve says before I can say anything. "Why?"

"Why what?" Eva asks nastily.

"Why do this?" Steve asks. "I mean, tonight's vote is for immunity. What do we get out of this contest?"

Eva snarls. "What, are you worthless and weak?"

"Yes," Steve says.

"Fine!" Eva snarls. "Whichever one of you _weaklings_ manages to bench press the most gets immunity too! NOW GET MOVING!"

* * *

While we were having breakfast, someone put a gymnasium on the beach. I know it sounds crazy, but there's no other way to explain its sudden appearance on the beach.

It isn't the largest gym in the world, but it's fully stocked. It has stair machines, treadmills, and stationary bikes along one wall, a row of punching bags against another wall, and a bunch of weights set up, including seven benches for doing bench presses. What's even crazier is that I get the sense that this is only one room of several, even though from the outside it seems like this place shouldn't even have all this space in the first room.

"Hit the benches!" Eva barks, and we hurry to comply. I sit down on one of the benches near the end, and Andy and Steve choose the benches beside me.

"Alright, here's how it works," Eva says. "You guys are all going to bench press these weights. Every time you complete ten presses, another ten pounds will be added to the total weight. When you can't complete your ten, you drop out, got it?"

Everybody nods.

"Good. We're starting at fifty!" Eva says. "Now get on with it! Lose some of that flab and replace it with muscle!"

Okay. Time to see if cheerleading has given me enough muscle to win this. I suspect it hasn't.

I grab the weights off the hangar and begin working them. Ten times, and I put them back so an intern can put some more weight on them. Another ten. Then another ten. Then another. By now, my arms and chest are starting to ache, but I keep going. Ten more. Ten more. Ten more.

I'm midway through the 120 pounds when I hear Steve choke. I look over and see that the weights have fallen on his chest. Eva quickly walks over, yanks them off, and shoves Steve on his way. A few seconds later, the same thing happens to Andy.

I keep pushing, ignoring everything around me until eventually I end up pinned underneath the weight trying to complete my tenth attempt. Eva pulls the weights off of me, and I roll off the bench. When I finally regain enough strength to get up, I see that only two people are left: Aunt Grandma and Wendy.

It takes a while, but I see both of them starting to slow until finally, Wendy puts the weights on the rack and sits up.

"I'm done," Wendy says.

Aunt Grandma grins, takes on more weight, does ten pushes, and puts the bar up again.

"Two hundred and thirty pounds," Eva says gruffly. "Not bad. You win a full set of weights, invincibility at the next campfire ceremony, and me as your personal trainer for a month."

"Sorry, Wendy," Aunt Grandma says, sounding chipper. "But I guess I'm stronger than you."

"Oh, I don't mind," Wendy says. She looks at me and grins. "In fact, I'm glad you won."

Fuck.


	24. The Sweet Girl

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

I didn't know whether or not I could beat Aunt Grandma in a weightlifting competition. I probably could have, but Aunt Grandma isn't important. What is important is that I saw that Nazz didn't get immunity, and I figured that I shouldn't overexert myself. After all, immunity would be nice, but it's more important to get Nazz off of the island.

Sure, I've left before she has twice now, even though she was a lot more deserving of being kicked out. But c'mon. This time, there's no way anybody would ally with her to kick me out instead. Right?

...

DAMMIT!

Okay, relax, Wendy. You've survived the apocalypse. A reality show should be a piece of cake. ESPECIALLY since winning isn't even objective number one anymore. Instead, you've just gotta make sure that the people who betrayed you don't get a chance to win. That's the main thing to do. So first, Nazz has to go down. Then, Boris. After that, maybe I can win. But first I've gotta get rid of them. And getting immunity would really help. So maybe letting Aunt Grandma win wasn't the best choice.

Buuuutttt, then again, I _am_ sharing a cabin with her. If she already has immunity, she doesn't need to win tonight's vote. Which means that I'm an option, along with five other people. So getting Aunt Grandma to vote with me? That's probably guaranteed immunity, if everybody else votes for themselves.

Just so long as Nazz doesn't get immunity, though. That's the main thing here.

* * *

I had been waiting in our cabin for over an hour when Aunt Grandma finally walked through the door. She didn't look at all tired as she smiled at me.

"Hello, Wendy!" Aunt Grandma said cheerfully. "How are you doing this afternoon?"

I shrugged. "I'm doing okay. How about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," Aunt Grandma said. "Honestly, I'm not sure what to do with myself for the rest of the day. I'm just so used to the challenges taking longer, you know?"

I nodded. "I do know what it's like to be stuck in a long challenge. Speaking of things taking a long time, nobody's getting eliminated tonight, right?"

"Yep," Aunt Grandma said. "Apparently that'll happen tomorrow."

"So...we vote on who gets immunity tonight, right?" I said.

Aunt Grandma raised an eyebrow. "You were at breakfast too, right?"

I took a deep breath and decided to just dive in. "Who are you planning to vote for?"

Aunt Grandma grinned falsely. "Well, I was thinking of voting for myself. You know, keep the options open. Unless, of course, you have a better suggestion."

I returned her grin. "I was thinking of voting for myself too. Unless, of course, you have a better suggestion."

Aunt Grandma's eyes narrowed, but she kept the grin on her face. "No, I don't believe I do."

It was at that moment that Ruby wandered in, fresh from the shower. She stopped midway into the room.

"Oh...right..." Ruby said awkwardly. "I'm in the other cabin now."

"No, go ahead and stay a while," Aunt Grandma said. "After all, we're all friends here, _right Wendy_?"

"Yeah," I said enthusiastically. It's true. Why wouldn't I be friends with Ruby? We got along great when we were on the same team in the first season. "Come on in. Spend some time with us."

"Well...okay," Ruby agreed. She came in, and I scooted over to make room for her on my bed. She sat down next to me.

"Welcome back to the island," Ruby said cheerfully. "Sorry I didn't get to tell you this earlier."

"It's fine," I said. "I'm glad to be back."

Ruby sighed. "Listen, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure," I said.

"Vote me off the first chance you get, would you?" she asked. "I just want to go home."

I grimaced. This was going to be tough.

"What?" Ruby asked worriedly.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "But–Nazz has to go home. I'm sorry."

Ruby sighed. "Fine."

"Who were you thinking about voting to give immunity to?" Aunt Grandma interrupted.

Ruby tapped her chin. "I'm not sure. I was thinking about...Steve."

"Steve?" we both asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I mean–he's tried to be my friend, even if he's not really...good at it," Ruby said.

"What do you mean, he's not really good at it?" I asked suspiciously.

"I mean, I get the sense he hasn't been voting me out even though I asked him to and he promised to," Ruby said. "But...well, he's a good guy. I'm sure of it."

Aunt Grandma nodded. "Steve seems acceptable."

"Sure," I agreed. "Steve."

Ruby smiled at us.

* * *

Dinner was horrible. I've had my father's apocalypse meals, and actual apocalypse meals for that matter, and they were never as bad as the slop Chef somehow always manages to dish up. Even though I _know_ the food is intentionally horrible, I still manage to be shocked every time it comes out of the kitchen and onto our plates.

It wasn't helped by the fact that I suspected I had made an _incredibly_ stupid decision by choosing to vote with Ruby for Steve. After all, everybody else on this island has betrayed me. Well, maybe not everyone, but it's happened often enough that there's no way I'm going to trust anybody here. All things considered, maybe I should just break my promise and cast a vote for myself.

But then, that probably wouldn't help anything. Even though I suspect Aunt Grandma isn't going to vote to keep Steve on, I did make a promise. And it's just immunity. It's not voting somebody off. I might be able to kick Nazz off if I don't get immunity. In fact, if neither of us have immunity, she _should_ go home. Plus, I don't remember much about Steve, but he never seemed too dangerous. I have nothing to lose by giving Steve immunity, especially if I'm not going to get it anyway.

"...and that's how nobody got eliminated that night," Ruby concluded. "What do you think?"

Internally, I shook myself out of my strategizing. "Wow. That's insane. Just because you cast a vote for neither?"

"I know," Ruby said. "I thought it would come down to Chris choosing to eliminate one of them."

"Or both," I said.

Ruby's eyes widened. "You really think he'd do that?"

I shrugged. "I think he's done it before."

Ruby stared straight ahead with shocked eyes. I resumed thinking about what had to be done to ensure Nazz would go home next.

* * *

A skinny girl with incredibly tan skin darted up behind the podium with a huge smile.

"Oh. My. Gosh you guys!" she exclaimed. "You made it all the way to the merge! Give yourselves a huge hand! And it's your second season, too! Congrats on qualifying for that, me and Sadie didn't, but we're not upset about that because it was a real bummer and people were always trying to split us up! Anyway, everybody gets a marshmallow tonight, except for the guy who won immunity!"

Katie picked up a marshmallow and looked at it happily. "Ah, marshmallows. I remember getting these. Of course then I got voted out and Sadie called everyone marshmallow-eating freaks when she got voted out and then we didn't get to be in any of the other seasons apart from the Aftermath but marshmallows go to Nazz, Wendy, Andy, Boris, Aunt Grandma and Ruby, and Steve gets this hot dog, which I guess means he gets immunity because they were giving out hot dogs for some reason last season? Anyway here you guys go."

Katie threw us the marshmallows, except for Steve, who caught the hot dog. He looked around at us, bewildered.

"Wow, guys," he said. "I'm–I'm shocked. I didn't know you all liked me this much."

"Of course we do," Andy said. "You're our pal."

"Well, thanks," Steve said, putting the hot dog on a stick and starting to roast it over the fire.

Maybe I could have used that immunity. But at least Nazz isn't immune. And tomorrow, she just might find herself headed home. But I'm not going to count on it. Not anymore. Not when I've been let down by people I thought were on my side so many times.

From now on, I trust no one.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Andy French: Andy French  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Boris Badenov: Boris Badenov  
Ruby Gloom: Steve  
Aunt Grandma: Steve  
Wendy Corduroy: Steve  
Steve: Ruby Gloom

Final tally of votes cast:

Steve: 3  
Ruby Gloom: 1  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 1  
Aunt Grandma: 1  
Boris Badenov: 1


	25. The Country Boy

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

I woke up at six in the morning. All thanks to my well-tuned internal clock, of course. It's helpful to know exactly what time it is, no matter what else is going on.

Last night worked out well enough, I suppose. Although I'm not the biggest fan of Steve, given how worthless he is, I admit that it's to my benefit to give him immunity. After all, it's better for the incompetent to be immune than for the competent, since that just makes it easier later on in the game.

This plan does have its drawbacks, I will admit. After all, incompetent people sometimes manage to win purely on the basis that people prefer to have to face off against them. Like Chaz. That self-absorbed, stuck-up, unskilled idiot managing to make it all the way to the final three last time is an affront to everybody with even an ounce of taste.

For that matter, I should probably focus on strategy beyond the current matchup. I'm guaranteed a spot in the final six, that much is certain. But beyond that, I need to figure out how I'm going to keep winning, especially since I don't know for certain that my immense advantages in intelligence and strength will play out the way I need them to, especially with a competitor like Wendy who might almost be able to match me in strength. With the role luck plays in this game, I'll need to find a way to change the odds in my favor. The only question is how.

I looked over at my roommate and noticed something strange. Although she was lying on her bed with her eyes shut and an outside observer might assume she was asleep, there was something about her posture that suggested alertness, like she was pretending to be asleep for some reason. Well, two can play at that game.

I shut my eyes again and thought. Wendy might just be the answer to my problem. If I can make her seem like the biggest threat on the island, I just might be able to put a bigger target in front of me. Of course, that assumes that Wendy doesn't win immunity. So maybe, just maybe, my objective should be to take a page out of her playbook. If she's going to stop Nazz from getting immunity, well, why shouldn't I try to do the same to her?

Of course, Wendy seems to be different ever since she came back. I can't be sure, but she seems to be more...driven, really. She seems to be focused on one thing, and one thing only. That could be troublesome if I get in her way.

Either way, lying here pretending to be asleep isn't helping anything. I might as well get up and shower. Today might be a long day, and really, there's nothing Wendy can do in the cabin and I can think about this anywhere. The shower is as good a place as any.

* * *

I was in the middle of showering when the water suddenly shut off and a loud announcement was broadcast over the public address.

"Okay, campers, get your butts down to the boathouse!" Chris yelled. "No breakfast, no lunch, no anything until this challenge is over. It starts as soon as everybody's there. So...get moving!"

I scowled as I dried myself off and put my clothes on. Somehow, being half-clean is worse than being dirty. It just feels more incorrect. As soon as I was dressed, I briskly headed off towards the boathouse. When I arrived, everybody else was already there, in part because the showers were on the opposite side of camp.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Chris said sarcastically. "Do you know how long we've been waiting?"

"About half a minute?" Steve guessed.

"Thanks, Steve," Chris said sarcastically. "I just wanted to bust her chops for being late, but you totally wrecked it. Whatever. Your challenge giver awaits you...in here!"

Chris threw open the door to the boathouse, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man with orange hair and a dopey, gap-toothed grin on his face. He waved to us shyly.

"Uh, hi," he said. "I'm Rodney, and uh, I'm gonna give you your challenge today, okay? It's a, uh, fishing challenge."

"What kind of fishing challenge?" I asked.

Rodney just stared at me. His grin seemed to get even wider and even dopier, if such a thing were possible.

"Um, Rodney?" Nazz asked. "Is everything alright?"

Rodney seemed to snap out of his daze. "Oh, uh, there's fish, and buckets, and hearts go boom hook, and...yeah."

Okay, maybe not so much snapping out of his daze, but at least he became more lucid.

Chris groaned. "Whoever catches the most fish wins. Is that right?"

"Uh, right!" Rodney said. "Lots of fish."

"Good," Chris said. "Now get in the boathouse, grab some rods, reels, bait...whatever else you need for fishing, I dunno, and meet us down at the docks! Rodney, come!"

Rodney meekly walked out of the boathouse and over to Chris. The rest of us rushed in to get fishing supplies.

* * *

Fishing is really boring when you don't catch anything. At least, that was my conclusion after two hours of sitting on the dock with a line in the water, waiting for something to bite. I wasn't the only one in this position, naturally. Nobody else had been able to catch anything either.

"Okay, you know what?" Chris said, sounding irritated. "I'm bored."

"So what should we do?" Rodney asked awkwardly.

Chris grinned and held up a walkie-talkie. He pushed a button on the side of it and began to speak into it.

"Team Underwater, it'd be real helpful if you could attack right about now," he said.

Several shark fins surfaced and headed towards shore quickly. Suddenly, our lines went limp one after the other. Nazz quickly reeled hers in.

"Somebody cut my line!" Nazz exclaimed.

Chris grinned. "Oh, I wouldn't say they _cut_ your line."

Suddenly, a shark leapt out of the water in front of us, did a flip, and plummeted into the water again. Several fins swam by right in front of us.

"Uh, Chris?" Rodney asked nervously. "Is this safe?"

Chris burst into a fit of laughter. Seconds later, two sharks jumped out of the water, heading for us. I ducked and barely managed to avoid getting bitten as the shark sailed over my head. All of us quickly stood up and started backing away, but it was too late, as the sharks kept diving and snapping at us.

 _hanging upside-down for an extended period of time can cause suffocation as the lungs are crushed by the weight of the organs that are normally below them pressing down on them_

I directed a few punches at those that came near me, but I was almost fighting blind, as they came at us frequently and without warning.

 _treatments for hyperthyroidism destroy the thyroid_

"Oh yeah, _this_ is entertainment," Chris said enthusiastically. "Now one of you get eaten!"

"No, Chris, don't!" Rodney said worriedly.

"Don't what?" Chris asked.

"Call them off, please!" Rodney said. "I wouldn't want anybody I–uh–I–uh..."

"Not quite yet," Chris said.

Nazz yelped as a shark landed in front of her on the dock and snapped at her feet. She fell backwards and stared at the shark, terrified as it flopped its way towards her.

 _nerves do not regenerate quickly and sometimes do not regenerate at all_

"PLEASE!" Rodney yelled, frightened.

"Fine," Chris grumbled. He spoke into his walkie-talkie again. "Alright, you're done for today, Team Underwater. Good job."

The shark on the dock stopped where it was and then rolled off the dock. We watched as the sharks swam away, their fins receding into the distance as they left.

"Now go back to fishing or whatever," Chris said. "And try to actually _catch_ something this time."

We headed back to our spots only to come across an unpleasant surprise: the sharks had eaten all our bait.

"Okay, how are we supposed to fish without any bait?" Wendy asked angrily.

Chris shrugged. "You guys figure it out. I don't care."

* * *

Without any bait, none of us were able to catch anything whatsoever over the next hour. By this time, we had all become more bored than before, and Steve looked like he was intermittently snoozing.

"Alright, that's it!" Chris said, annoyed. "Rodney, go out there and give them some advice. We need _something_ to happen in this episode so we don't end up just padding it out with everybody sitting on the dock doing nothing."

Rodney saluted. "You can count on me!"

Rodney bounded over to the end of the dock, where Steve was fishing. He looked at where Steve's line was for a few seconds and then knelt down beside him.

"Okay, you see where your line is?" Rodney said. "You're not going to catch anything big that close to shore. You need to cast with power and get your line deeper."

Steve nodded. "Got it."

Rodney moved on to the person next to Steve: Boris.

"Okay, Boris, you're gonna want to use some bait," Rodney said. "You won't catch anything with an unbaited hook."

Boris gave him a dirty look but didn't say anything. Rodney walked over to Wendy.

"So, do you have any _decent_ advice?" Wendy said sarcastically.

Rodney froze up and stared at her for a several seconds. After a bit, Wendy snapped her fingers.

"Uh, hello, earth to Rodney?" she said. "You still in there?"

Rodney shook his head and stiffly walked down the dock to me.

"So. Um," he said, as eloquently as a Rodney can say anything. "I, uh, help you do, need, me?"

I smiled at him. "Actually, I'm doing just fine, I think."

Rodney again went catatonic, prompting me to wonder what was WRONG with this idiot. He stayed that way for about a minute before shaking his head to clear it and moving on to the fifth one of us: Andy. He only looked at Andy's line for a few seconds.

"Uh, you might want to actually put a line in the water," Rodney offered.

Andy shrugged. "Meh."

"Got any advice for me, big boy?" Nazz said sweetly.

Rodney turned his head to look at her. His jaw dropped. Nazz was smiling at him with a sultry, predatory look on her face.

What the hell is WRONG with Rodney?

"C'mon, Rodney," Nazz said. "You're so smart, and so strong, I'm sure you know what to do here. Don't you always?"

Rodney froze up completely. Nazz started to look concerned.

"Uh, Rodney?" she said nervously. "Are you okay in there?"

After a few minutes, Rodney snapped back to normal.

"It's over!" he said. "Over! With the fish, and the blue, and ocean love, and sharks future teeth girls attractive, win no, home go must, yes?"

We all stared at him, completely confused.

"...what?" Steve finally asked.

"He said that he can't choose a winner," Chris said. "I wanted to have three people immune for tonight's campfire ceremony, though, so since Rodney screwed up all around, from the challenge being stupid to him not being able to choose a winner, I decree that tonight's campfire ceremony will again be a vote for immunity! Now get out of here. Lunch will be at noon."


	26. The Compulsive Liar

**Enter...  
NAZZ VAN BARTONSCHMEER**

I honestly was not expecting that.

I mean, I've watched Total Drama before. And I watched the season Rodney was part of. His gimmick was falling in love with every female that crossed his path. So I figured, why not play off of that when he was giving the challenge. You know, instead of treat him like every female does, with barely disguised disgust and confusion, I'd flirt with him a little. I figured that might make him decide to give me immunity, and I could let him down easy later on.

Look, I didn't say it was a good plan. Or a nice plan. But I'm getting desperate! I mean, everybody here seems to hate me, I don't have immunity, and the way things are going I'll be the next one off the island. I don't want that, so I decided to just go for it and try to see if I can worm my way a little bit closer to the ultimate goal. Let's face it, that's going to have to be my strategy from here on out: try to sneak through. It's pretty obvious that I'm going to have a hard time with Wendy and Boris actively working against me, but there's no way I'm just going to give up.

Tonight, somebody else gets immunity. It's probably not me. Unless somehow I can convince people to vote for me. But that's not going to happen, so how am I possibly going to save myself?

Maybe I could get somebody to ally with me. If I vote for them to get immunity, then maybe I might be able to get them on my side. And that might be able to help. _Maybe_. But who would want to ally with me again, anyway? Everybody knows what happened the first time around. And if that wasn't proof enough, I betrayed Snidely, and tricked Boris into siding with me–or really, Chris tricked him into siding with me. But either way, I can't imagine I'm very desirable as an ally.

I guess there's only one option open. I have to play it straight with everyone from now on. I just hope it's not too late for them to accept me. And maybe even forgive me.

Please forgive me.

But where do I start? I know there's got to be somebody whom it will be easier to pull onto my side. Andy might be willing to work with me, since I _did_ get him past the merge, but he might also think it's best to cut his ties with me. I can't really blame him if he does. But that just means that I need somebody else to work with me, and then Andy might be on my side. So I'd better figure out who to start with. Wendy is out of the question, and I think Boris hates me, so that just leaves Ruby, Steve, and Aunt Grandma. Aunt Grandma's kind of creepy, and I don't know that she's very well liked either, so I guess I have to work on Ruby and Steve.

I shake myself out of my thoughts and look around. I've been sitting on the dock for a while now, trying to process what just happened and figure out what my next move is. And I guess I figured out what I'm going to do. I'm going to try and be honest with people and hope that it works. Even if it doesn't, I still know I did my best both times I was here.

I get up and walk back towards the cabins. As I walk, I think about who I'm going to search for. Ruby doesn't seem to be around much, although I haven't been paying much attention to her. Maybe I should have, but she's always been on the other team. It would be odd to try and ally with her before the merge, especially since that sounds like something Snidely would do. But now, I can go ahead and see if she'd be open to an invitation to side with me. Still, I've seen Steve around a lot of places. He usually seems to be in his own world, since he doesn't really approach any of us, but I think I've caught him staring at me a few times. It could be that he's plotting his revenge, or it could be that he's interested in me. Hopefully not in _that_ way, in an alliance way.

As I walk, I look around, hoping to spot somebody. Nobody seems to be around until I see a flash of red and yellow in the trees. Confused, I look up and spot a certain pale-skinned redhead sitting on a branch far up the tree, swinging her legs and staring into space.

"Hey, Ruby!" I call up to her. "What's going on?"

Ruby looks down at me. "Oh, hi Nazz! What're you up to?"

"Five-four, give or take," I joke. "So, who are you planning to vote for tonight?"

Ruby sighs. "So long as it's not me, I'm fine with whoever."

"So long as it's not you?" I ask. Why wouldn't Ruby want immunity?

"I've been trying to go home for weeks now," Ruby explains. "I've voted myself out every chance I get, but it never seems to work!"

"O-kay," I say slowly. "Why do you want to go home?"

Ruby looks sad. "Everyone here is so serious, and they all hate each other, and I just want everyone to be friends, but if I can't have that I just want to go home to _my_ friends."

Ruby wants to go home? She–wow. If this is true, I might have found a way to survive for another round.

"Alright," I tell her. "I promise I'll vote you off after the next challenge if I can."

Ruby sighs again. "That's what they've all said."

"I mean it, I swear!" I tell her. I'm not lying.

"Yeah, right!" Ruby spits venomously. "Everybody says they're voting me off, but if they're not lying, why am I still here? Huh? And why should I trust you? You're like the biggest liar on this island!"

I scratch my head nervously. I'm surprised she feels this way. "Gee, Ruby, I just wanted to help."

Ruby shuts her eyes. "Fine. Who do you want to have immunity if not you, then?"

"Andy," I say immediately. If I can get him immunity, he'll work with me. Probably.

"Fine by me," Ruby says. "Are you two friends?"

"I hope so," I say.

Ruby smiles. I continue on my way. I'm almost at the cabins when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and spot Steve heading for his cabin. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me.

"Oh. Nazz," he says flatly.

"Steve!" I greet him. "Hey, remember how we were on the same team last season?"

"Yes," he says. "What's your point?"

"Well..." I start to say.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want an alliance."

"Uh, maybe later," I say. "Right now, I–"

"What do you mean, maybe later?" Steve asks. He sounds surprised. "Why not now?"

"Well, I–I kind of have something else going on," I lie. "See, I–"

"You don't think I'm good enough to be in your alliance?" he asks angrily. "You don't think I have a chance at winning? Is that it?"

"No!" I say quickly. "I just–I want to apologize to Andy for getting Boris mad at him."

"Well you did trick Boris into voting off his friends," Steve says. "That's, well, I mean, I know why Boris is upset."

"I know that!" I snap. "But now Boris is gunning for Andy, and I don't think he deserves that."

"So?" Steve asks. "Why do you care? You cast off people like they don't mean anything."

I wince. "Look, that's–I was just playing the game, okay? And I didn't want to get rid of anybody."

"Megan," Steve says.

"Okay, Megan," I agree, "but I didn't like her!"

"Oh?" Steve asks. "So you didn't like Ingrid either? Because you didn't have any problem getting rid of her a few days ago."

"I had to do that!" I yell. "It was her or me!"

"Just like it was Marlowe or you, or Wendy or you?" Steve asks.

"Ye–I didn't vote off Marlowe," I say stonily. "You guys did that this season. Last season, it was Ingrid and Chaz. And they only got away with it because _she_ turned on _me_."

"I guess you think you know what it feels like to be betrayed, then," Steve says. There's a smirk in his voice.

I frown at him. "Could you just vote for Andy to get immunity tonight?"

"Andy?" Steve asks, shocked. "Why Andy?"

"Because I want to make things right," I say.

Steve smirks. "Good luck with that."

Oh fuck this.

I turn away from him and walk into my cabin, letting the door shut behind me. I am so glad that I'm only sharing a cabin with Ruby and that she's pretty much never around, because I don't think I could handle having to deal with anybody else right now.

* * *

I eat alone at dinner. It's not like I have a choice; nobody really wants to sit with me. Ruby gives me a worried look, like she's wondering if she should sit with me, but ultimately she sits between Andy and Steve. I try to listen in on conversations, but ultimately end up giving up when I realize nobody's talking.

It should be easy for me to just go over and sit down next to somebody, but Steve has–well, Steve has thrown off my confidence. I no longer know whether anybody is willing to spend time with me, and it might end up with a screaming match in the middle of the cafeteria, and I need as little attention on me as possible.

So what do I notice? I notice Aunt Grandma looking at Wendy as though she's a lab specimen whenever she thinks Wendy isn't looking. I notice Wendy glaring at me every few minutes, just to remind me that she hates me. I notice Boris glaring at me constantly. I notice that Steve is observing people just like I am. I notice that Ruby is occasionally glancing around. And I notice that Andy is keeping his head down and trying to be ignored by everyone.

Dinner passes mostly in silence, and as soon as it's over we all head out to vote.

* * *

We've all been seated for a while when a pudgy brunette woman walks up to the podium.

"Hi, yah, I'm Staci, yah, and I'm going to give out the marshmallows. Yah, did you know my great-great-great-great-grandmother invented marshmallows? Before that, people had nothing to put on sticks and roast over campfires. Yah, and my great-great-great-great-uncle invented the sausage. Before that, mustard was just this yellow stuff, yah, that my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt invented, uh-huh," the woman says, keeping a steady monotone all the way. She starts tossing marshmallows to us. "And campfires were invented by my great-great-great-great-grandfather, so there would be something to roast marshmallows over. Yah, before him, people just sat around in the dark shivering, which is why my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-uncle invented central heating, so that people wouldn't be all cold, it's true, uh-huh." I catch my marshmallow. "Yah, and my great-great-aunt invented air conditioning so that people weren't always hot all the time. Yah, before her people were always sweaty, which is why my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother invented deodorant. Without her we'd all smell horrible." She tosses the hot dog to Andy. "Yah, and my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-aunt invented..."

Staci's voice trails off in the distance as Chef pulls her away. Andy puts a stick through his hot dog and smiles as he looks at us.

"Geez, guys, I'm honored," he says, sticking the sausage in the flames. "I never thought you'd vote for me."

"Oh, of course we would," Steve says quickly. "We're your friends."

Andy smiles at him. "Thanks, Steve."

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Andy French: Andy French  
Steve: Andy French  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Andy French  
Ruby Gloom: Andy French  
Boris Badenov: Boris Badenov  
Wendy Corduroy: Wendy Corduroy  
Aunt Grandma: Wendy Corduroy

Final tally of votes cast:

Andy French: 4  
Wendy Corduroy: 2  
Boris Badenov: 1

* * *

 _"Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah! Knock 'em down, beat 'em down, gooooo team! Cobblers!"_

 _I leap into the air. The crowd reacts with its usual indifference, although at least this time the Kankers don't throw anything at me. Honestly, it kind of sucks cheering for our football team. Although we'd gotten a bit better since Kevin recruited Double D to help with the play design, it still didn't change the fact that for the most part, everybody on the team stunk._

 _At least we're in the game this time. Well, kind of. Being in the game in the second quarter isn't usually an accomplishment, but it's better than the Cobblers usually do._

 _"Hey, Nazz, what's the score?" somebody behind me in the bleachers asks._

 _"14-7," I tell them. Kevin completes a pass to Jonny for a quick fifteen yards, and we're on the 44. "Wait, why not look at the scoreboard?"_

 _"The scoreboard lies," they say._

 _"What?" I ask, confused. "No it..."_

 _I look up at the scoreboard. The score is somehow Q to 12._

 _"How'd we get twelve points?" I ask, completely confused._

 _"Really," the voice behind me drawls sarcastically. "That's what you find confusing."_

 _"No, actually, what I find confusing is that Edd somehow got onto the field without a helmet and just caught a touchdown pass from Kevin," I tell the voice. "Everyone knows Double D has like no athletic ability."_

 _"And what'd that make the score?" the voice asks._

 _I check the scoreboard._

 _"Oogy to Boogy," I say. "Which is weird, because I could swear we already had Oogy."_

 _The person behind me groans. "Okay, this is stupid. Just turn around."_

 _I try to. I can't move._

 _"I can't move," I tell the voice._

 _"It's YOUR dream," the voice says exasperatedly._

 _"MY dream?" I ask. "Wait, this is a dream?"_

 _"One where you're apparently a cheerleader," the voice says._

 _"I AM a cheerleader," I tell it._

 _I can practically hear the voice rolling its eyes. "Fantastic. Now did you see anything weird?"_

 _Right as the voice finishes speaking, a receiver on the other team gets open deep and hauls in a long touchdown pass. I shake my head. "No, that's pretty much normal."_

 _"With CHRIS," the voice clarifies._

 _"Triana?" I ask. "Why are you in my dreams?"_

 _"BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO CONTACT ANYBODY ON THIS ISLAND!" she yells at me. "There is some SERIOUSLY FREAKY SHIT happening there."_

 _"I guess it's a bit weird, but Survivor pretty much did the basic concept first," I tell her. "Adding players who aren't actually teenagers is kinda strange, but maybe they were trying to work some sort of kids vs. adults angle. I've heard that that's a thing."_

 _Triana groans. "Okay. Not that. Supernatural shit. Have you seen him acting unnatural? Have you seen ANYONE acting unnatural?"_

 _"Well, Ruby wanted to get voted of the island today," I remember._

 _"That's because she's SMART," Triana says. "And I already knew that. Hell, I told you that when you asked why I was talking to you last time!"_

 _"So..." I prompt._

 _"Anything new?" she asks again._

 _"Not really," I say. "Just that Chris gave us two non-elimination challenges in a row, but he might be trying to pad out the season."_

 _Triana groans. "Okay, fuck this. You enjoy your head cheerleader high school football game experience. I'm gonna go do something less frustrating than talking to you, like pulling out my own toenails with my bare hands."_

 _I turned back to the game just in time to see Kevin complete a touchdown pass and put us up 32 to 28._


	27. The Obsessive Uber-Fan

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

I wake up early in the morning feeling good. And when I say early, I mean that when I check my watch it's not even 8:30 yet. I never get up this early without an alarm, and yet here I am, awake, rested, and feeling great. It's mostly because I got immunity last night, which I really wasn't expecting. I mean, seriously, I thought I was just here to pad out the season a bit for Chris and friends. But it seems like people really like me.

I mean, I'm used to being liked, but I'm not used to being _popular_. Pretty much everyone who isn't a total freak can be liked. Even my nerdy little bro has his friends, even if they're all dorks like him. And I've definitely got friends. Hell, I _live_ with some of my closest friends. But popularity is something else. Popularity is where people who don't even know you like you, or at least respect you. I mean, sure, I guess since there are only seven of us, we all know each other, but I'm not that well acquainted with a lot of these people. Like Wendy, or Steve, or Aunt Grandma. I haven't really spoken to any of them that much, although Steve seems kind of nice.

Breakfast isn't very good, but that's to be expected. Chef's cooking sets the bar pretty low for quality, and I'm pretty sure that he then tries to crawl under that bar. But it's something to eat, so that's good, and I'm midway through what may or may not be gruel when Chris walks in.

"Good morning, campers!" Chris says happily. "McLean here, finally getting to tell people what today's challenge is. We decided to make things a little bit more interesting today: we're gonna play hide and seek!"

"Uh, and how is that interesting?" I ask sarcastically.

"Oh, Mister Immunity being sarcastic, what a twist," Chris says, equally sarcastic. "Well, if _I_ were the one giving the challenge, I'd probably have Chef hunt you–actually, I already did that a couple of times. So maybe instead, I'd use bears. Or I'd make you play hide-and-go-seek _with_ dangerous, deadly wild animals! Chef, write that down. We'll use it in a future season."

"Does this long, rambling monologue have a point?" Wendy asks. "Because I could get a senior citizen to give me a pointless rant at home."

"Ah, but here's what you can't get at home: a shot at a million dollars!" Chris says excitedly. "At least, probably not. I dunno. _But_ , you also can't get a game of hide-and-seek against somebody who is, shall we say, one of the best amateur trackers in the world. Even _Chef_ doesn't know how she does it!"

"It's true," Chef says. "That girl is majorly creepy."

"So it's a _girl_ we're going up against..." Aunt Grandma muses.

"Is it Izzy?" Nazz guesses.

Chris grins sinisterly. "It might be. But rest assured, she _will_ track you. She _will_ find you. And she _will_ bring you in! Any questions?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Do I–"

"No questions? Good!" Chris interrupts. "That makes things so much easier for me. Anybody who manages not to get caught–by which I mean, _none of you_ –will win immunity at tonight's ceremony. Which means that basically, four of you are on the chopping block tonight." He snickers. "Now get going! You have fifteen minutes to find a place to hide, and then we're releasing the beast!"

We all stand up and bolt out of the cafeteria, scattering as soon as we get through the doors. I head for the woods, ignoring the other players who are doing the same thing. Hopefully I'll be able to escape the wrath of whomever was hunting us. It doesn't matter to me, of course. I have immunity. But with what I know about this game, whatever's hunting us wants to hurt us too.

I dive into a bush. Once there, I pull out the flask I've been keeping with me since I left home again. Jim made it for me. You know, just in case. I take a couple of swigs.

* * *

God DAMN that was some good alcohol. I don't even know what it was, I'm guessing whiskey mixed with apple schnapps, but two swallows and my head is SPINNING. I just wanted to get a little buzz on, but there's no chance of that now. I am straight-up drunk. I can tell because I kind of want another drink but I know if I do I'm going to...well, I probably won't puke, but after a bit I'll probably embarrass myself on national television, and I _don't_ need that. I mean, I stole the tapes for an entire season of The Real World just to avoid that. Still, there's a twig in my butt, and it's starting to annoy me.

I shift over and kick something hard.

"Ow!" whatever I kicked squeals.

"Huh?" I ask, confused. "Wait, who are you?"

"Oh, Andy," she says. "It's me, Nazz."

"Well get outta here, I'm hiding!" I say. Seriously, what the hell is _she_ doing here?

"I was here first!" she complains.

"Oh yeah?" I say. "Well, I don't like you, so scram!"

"I got you immunity!" she says.

I snort. "Yeah right. I'm so sure you didn't just vote for yourself."

"It's true," she says. She sounds hurt. "I convinced Ruby and Steve to vote for you to get immunity."

"Oh yeah? Why not take it yourself if you could get them to vote for me?" I ask her.

"Because they'd have thought I was being self-serving," she says.

"You _are_ self-serving. You're a greedy, selfish, vicious, conniving, self-absorbed, user of other people–"

"Keep it down!" she hisses.

"Or what, we get found by this expert hunter person?"

"Yes! I know you don't believe me, but I told them that they should give you immunity!"

"Now why would you do that?"

"I need you to help me!"

"And why would _I_ do that?"

"Because I helped you!"

"Yeah, and you'll stab me in the back the first chance you get."

"No I won't! I've changed, I swear!"

"Yeah, right. Change this."

"Change what? Wait, what are you–"

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHAAHHHHAAAAAHHHHAAAAHHAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAHHHAHHAHHAAA!"

My scream rings through the camp. I can feel Nazz staring at me.

"Are you nuts?" she hisses. "You're going to draw her right to us!"

"Oh, I've been here for a while," an unfamiliar voice says. "There's no way I'd miss this argument."

I can sense Nazz tensing up. "You–you have?"

"Oh, yeah," the voice says. "I mean, there's a reason they call the show Total _Drama_."

Whoever the hunter is lets out a creepy giggle.

"Uh, hold on," Nazz says sounding scared. "You haven't found us, you're imagining this."

"I don't think I am," the hunter says, sounding uncertain. "But I just have to reach in and grab you, so I guess we'll find out!"

"WAIT!" Nazz says loudly. "You don't need to do that. I mean, Sierra, it is you, right?"

"What of it?" the hunter asks.

"Well, if you don't catch me, I'll help you with the Cody-finding. Wouldn't that be nice?" Nazz asks. "And besides, since you love Total Drama, you know that it's the villains who make the show interesting. So obviously you'll want me to stay on, right? So that the fans will keep visiting your blogs?"

The hunter giggles creepily again. "Oh, silly Nazz. I know the specific location and momentum of every single Cody atom that exists, has existed, or will ever exist, at any point in time, to within a few hundredths of a Planck length. And besides, _you aren't the real villain_."

The hunter reaches in and pulls us out. I look up at her and see a tall, brown-skinned girl with an enormous smile and hair that is various shades of purple.

Nazz has a shocked expression on her face as she looks at the hunter. "Not the real villain? Who's the real villain?"

"I think you said it best yourself, Nazz," the hunter says. "If I tell you who the real villain is, they'll get voted out soon. And then I'd see a lot fewer hits on my blogs. So do either of you want to help me hunt?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Nazz asks. "If I help you, that'll just give everybody else another reason to vote me out."

I snort. "Like we need one."

"Oh, well, then I guess I'm going to have to force you two to come with me," Sierra says happily.

I shrug. "I don't have anything better to do."

"...how?" Nazz asks.

"Well, I guess if the people I capture don't come with me, I'll just eliminate them out of hand," Sierra says sweetly. "Now come along with me!"

Sierra sets off again. We follow her as she purposefully leads us through the woods, only occasionally stopping to sniff the air or put a hand to her ear. Eventually, she stops at the edge of small clearing and turns back to grin at us.

"This is it," she whispers. "Our next captives."

Sierra charges into the clearing, screaming all the way. Nazz and I casually follow her into the clearing just in time to see her tap Ruby and Steve, both of whom are lying on the ground. Sierra stops and tsks at them.

"That wasn't a very good job of hiding by either of you," she says. "Lemme guess. Steve, you didn't see any reason to bother trying, and Ruby, you want to be eliminated."

Ruby nods. "Yeah, pretty much."

"That's about right," Steve adds.

"Oh well," Sierra says. "Only three people left to find, and I have two and a half hours to do it! Now let's get going!"

* * *

Sierra spent the next hour leading us through the woods in what seemed to be a random path. Eventually, though, we reach the edge of the island, and Sierra turns to us with a gleeful smile on her face. She leans down, picks up a rock, and spins her arm around at higher and higher speeds before letting go of the rock, sending it flying into the trees.

"OW!" somebody complains from above.

"Who is it?" Sierra singsongs.

"Aunt Grandma!" the voice calls down.

"You are not, you liar!" another voice says angrily.

"Okay, look, both of you can come down, or I can come up there and get you," Sierra calls up to them.

We hear somebody scream, and Aunt Grandma lands heavily on the ground at the bottom of the tree. She gets up, rubbing her back.

"Now you, Wendy!" Sierra calls up.

"Not a chance!" Wendy says angrily. "Go ahead, try and get me!"

Sierra smirks. "Aunt Grandma, if you would?"

"With pleasure," Aunt Grandma says wickedly before darting up the tree. We hear the sound of a scuffle, and then both Wendy and Aunt Grandma fall to the ground beside us. That's when Sierra calmly walks over to them and tags them both.

"Well, it looks like I'm almost done," Sierra says proudly. "Now all I have to do is find Boris. That shouldn't be hard at all."

* * *

We spend a long time just walking around the entire island, searching for Boris. While Sierra is preoccupied with her search, Wendy and Aunt Grandma argue endlessly about Wendy pushing Aunt Grandma out of the tree and Aunt Grandma going up to get Wendy. They're both mad at each other, but I don't really care, because let's face it, as long as they're not mad at me I'm in the clear.

Ruby sidles up to me. "So, Andy, can I count on your vote?"

"You can count on mine," Nazz cuts in.

Ruby smiles weakly. "Thanks, Nazz, but I'm going to need four votes to guarantee I'll be sent home. So what do you say, Andy? Are you in?"

"That depends," I say slowly. "Who do you want to vote off?"

" _Me_ ," Ruby says insistently. "I've been trying to get voted off for two weeks now. Please? Vote me off?"

I shrug. "Enh, why not. No skin off my nose."

"Great!" Ruby says happily. "Now I just have to get somebody else to agree."

A loud buzzer rings out.

"That's all, campers!" Chris announces. "Somehow, Boris managed to hide for the full three hours and wins immunity! That means that tonight, Ruby, Nazz, and Wendy will be on the chopping block."

"What?" Sierra asks, shocked. "But I searched everywhere!"

"Did you check behind you?" a familiar voice says.

We turn around just in time to see Boris remove a hollow log from his body and throw it away.

"Were you following me this whole time?" Sierra demands angrily.

"Yes," Boris says. "And now, I have immunity."

"Well–well fine!" Sierra says angrily. "I'll just see you tonight!"

Sierra storms off. We all look at each other awkwardly.


	28. The Geek

Ruby was the first one to break the awkward silence that had descended on the remaining campers.

"So you guys will vote for me, right?" she asked.

"I already said yes," Andy said.

"Sorry, but no," Wendy said harshly. "At the moment, I have bigger, _blonder_ fish to fry."

"Oh really?" Aunt Grandma asked sarcastically. "Because I'm thinking I should cast my vote for the person who likes to push people out of trees!"

"Why were you even up there?" Wendy asked angrily. "You don't need immunity! You already have it!"

"I do, and you don't, and I'm going to make sure you never get it again!" Aunt Grandma said angrily. "Believe you me, you're going to go home!"

"Not tonight, I hope," Boris chimed in. "Relax, ladies. We should pool our energies and focus on the actual threat. Nazz."

"Sierra said I wasn't the real villain!" Nazz defended herself.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Well duh. You're going home tonight."

"Who is the real villain, anyway?" Boris asked. "Did she happen to tell you that?"

Nazz frowned. "She said she couldn't."

"Yeah, sure she did," Wendy said sarcastically. "I totally believe you. Especially with how you constantly lie to get ahead."

"Face it, Nazz," Andy added. "There's no way anybody's going to believe you about _anything_ from here on out."

"You were there!" Nazz said desperately. "Tell them what Sierra said!"

Andy looked at the other campers. They looked back at him.

"I don't really remember," Andy finally said. "I think Nazz begged Sierra not to capture her, and Sierra shot her down."

Boris grinned. "See, Nazz? Even Andy won't back you up anymore."

"But...but..." Nazz tried to protest.

"The rats are starting to leave the sinking ship," Boris continued. "By which I mean, you. Because you're sunk."

Nazz shut her mouth and looked around desperately. Her gaze settled on Ruby.

"Well, vote Ruby off," Nazz said. "She _wants_ to go home."

"I would, but I have...other priorities," Boris said, staring at Nazz.

"Me too," Wendy added, staring at Nazz as well.

"Well, I'll vote you off," Steve said to Ruby.

"There, see?" Nazz said desperately. "That's four votes for Ruby. If you give me some time, I swear, I'll find out who the real villain is."

"Or find another patsy," Wendy said bitterly.

"Don't worry about it, Wendy," Boris said. He grinned wickedly. "If not today, then tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the next day." He turned and walked away from the others. "After all, Nazz, you can't escape your fate for long."

* * *

Steve walked into his side of the cabin and collapsed on his mattress. He looked over at Andy, who was staring at a magazine he'd packed.

"So, Andy," Steve said. "Remember how I voted for you to have immunity last night?"

Andy sighed. "Let me guess. It comes with strings attached?"

"Yes and no," Steve said after a pause. "I mean, you definitely don't owe me anything."

"Uh-huh," Andy said uninterestedly. "So what do you want?"

"I want two things," Steve said. "Firstly, I want you and me to team up."

Andy looked up at him for the first time. "What? Okay, I'm flattered, but–why?"

"Because neither of us are that good," Steve said.

"Hey!" Andy protested.

"It's true," Steve said. "I don't like it, but this game is angled towards politicians and athletes. Now, me? I'm neither. How about you?"

Andy frowned. "Go on."

"Look, the only reason we got voted into immunity is because nobody thinks we're strong players," Steve said. "Neither of us made it past the merge last time, neither of us have a lot of strength, and neither of us play politics. Or at least not well."

Andy nodded. "Fair. So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there are seven of us left," Steve said. "And if either of us want a chance at winning, it's best if we don't go up against somebody who can take us down in a contest of physical skill."

"So it's best if we go up against each other," Andy said. "I get it. But what's the second thing?"

Steve looked into his eyes seriously. "I want you to vote with me to get rid of Nazz tonight."

Andy's eyes widened. "Whoa. Are you sure about that? I mean, Ruby–"

"Ruby doesn't know what she wants!" Steve snapped. He took a deep breath. "And besides, do you really want to keep Nazz around any longer than is necessary?"

"True," Andy mused. He looked up at Steve. "But you did make her a promise that you'd vote her off. Do you really want to break that promise?"

Steve stared at him. "Why not? Everybody else did."

* * *

For the first time in three days, Nazz sat down next to somebody at a meal. This somebody glared at her as soon as they sat down together.

"What do you want?" Wendy asked angrily.

"I want to apologize," Nazz said.

"Didn't you try this already?" Wendy asked. "Oh yeah, you did. With Ingrid. And she told you exactly where you could shove your apology."

Nazz winced. "C'mon, Wendy–"

"No," Wendy said. "You lied about being my friend last season, you got me voted off this season, and that's not even getting into how you've betrayed everyone who has ever trusted you. And I swear, Nazz, you are going to go home _tonight_."

"But I just–" Nazz started to say.

"Shut up!" Wendy yelled. "Nobody likes you! Nobody trusts you! And nobody wants you around! So just shut up and accept it! You're going home, and nobody will miss you! Got it?"

Tears welled up in the corner of Nazz's eyes.

"Aw, are you going to cry now?" Wendy said sarcastically. "A few crocodile tears, so that maybe we'll keep you on because we don't want to hurt your feelings? It's too late, Nazz. It's. Too. Late."

Nazz got up and took her food to an unoccupied corner of the table. Wendy watched her leave with hard, angry eyes.

"That was kinda mean, don't you think?"

Wendy's faced softened as she looked over at the redhead beside her. "Maybe, but she deserved it."

"Well, don't be too sure she'll go home tonight," Ruby said. "I think I have her vote. If Andy's on our side, I'll go home. Are you sure you won't help me?"

Wendy smiled. "Ruby, you're a nice girl, but I get the feeling that you don't understand the more important things in life." Her face hardened again. "Like revenge."

* * *

Cody strode up to the podium confidently, making finger pistols and grinning as he arrived.

"Well well well, seems like it's time for the Codemeister to begin handing out marshmallows," he said confidently. "Because tonight, one of you is going home. But it's not gonna be anybody who has immunity, so Andy, Aunt Grandma, Boris, and Steve: you're all safe." He tossed them marshmallows. "Which leaves just Wendy, Nazz, and Ruby. Wendy, you pushed somebody out of a tree today, and you've kinda been, well, aloof to everyone ever since you got back. Nazz, you manipulated your way to the merge, but right now nobody really likes you. And Ruby, you don't have any enemies, but you definitely want to go home, so...yeah, you might just get your wish. But I know that one of you is safe, and her name is...Wendy!"

Cody tossed the marshmallow to Wendy. She caught it coolly and grinned at Nazz, who gulped.

"Two players left," Cody said, tossing the remaining marshmallow in the air casually. "And only one of them will get to stay on. Will it be Ruby, who doesn't want to be here? Or Nazz, who thinks she can prove somebody else is the biggest villain on this island? I gotta say, it's tough to..."

Cody trailed off as he realized his last toss hadn't come down. He looked down to make sure he hadn't dropped it, looked all around when he couldn't find it on the ground, and finally looked up. His eyes widened.

"Oh no..." Cody whimpered.

"CODYYYYYYY!" someone screamed, louder than a banshee. Less than a second later, Sierra landed on him from above and pulled him into a tight hug.

"How did you know I was doing this?" Cody choked out.

"Silly Cody," Sierra said. "You should know by now that I know the specific location and momentum of every single super-adorable Cody atom EVER, including in the future!"

"Of course," Cody said, gasping for air. "So could you, uh, let me loose so I can finish this?"

Sierra pouted. "Do I have to?"

"You're kinda–crushing my arm against my side," Cody said.

"Oh. Right," Sierra said, loosening her grip slightly. Cody pulled his arm free, and Sierra handed him the last marshmallow.

"Right, so uh, this one goes to Ruby," Cody said, tossing the marshmallow to her.

"WHAT?" Ruby and Nazz said simultaneously. "Are you nuts?"

"I wanted to go home!" Ruby said. "I thought you all would vote for me!"

Wendy shook her head. "Sorry, Ruby. But I wanted revenge as soon as possible."

"Same here," Boris agreed. "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll be leaving soon. Just as soon as I get rid of Andy."

"And as soon as I get rid of Boris," Wendy said. She and Boris glared at each other.

"Well, good luck with that," Nazz said bitterly. "Because I tried to warn you. There is a greater villain in this game. And there is apparently a greater evil or something on the horizon."

"Uh-huh," Wendy said sarcastically. "And how would you know that?"

"Triana told me in a dream," Nazz said.

Andy laughed. "Yeah, right! So we should trust your dreams now? Please!"

"Wait," Ruby said. "You had a dream about Triana? I had a few of those too!"

Andy stopped laughing and looked at her with interest in his eyes. "Go on."

"Well, she kept saying to watch out for anything weird, but she couldn't really provide any details," Ruby said. "And she was urging me to get off the island as soon as possible, but also to keep an eye on Chris."

"Your dream Triana is right," Chris said, walking up to Nazz. "Or she would be, if I was actually allowed to do anything this season. All I get to do is introduce people and then throw them off the island! Which are the best parts of the show, really. But I miss being allowed to cause massive amounts of pain. Anyway, Nazz, time to go home."

Nazz let Chris lead her away. As they left, she glanced back at her former opponents.

"Wendy?" she called back. "I really am sorry!"

Wendy gave her the finger.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Ruby Gloom: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Aunt Grandma: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Andy French: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Steve: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Wendy Corduroy: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer  
Boris Badenov: Nazz Van Bartonschmeer

Final tally of votes cast:

Nazz Van Bartonschmeer: 7

* * *

"I think they might be on to us," Chris said to a dark figure.

"Fool!" the figure said loudly. "It matters not. We will proceed as planned."

"I dunno, dude," Chris said. "What if they figure out what we're up to? That could destroy everything! We'd have to say goodbye to the next season!"

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME?" the figure thundered.

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Chris said, unfazed. "If we get found out, I'll have to find an all-new cast."

"Pfah!" the figure said. "Then we'll find a new cast."

"We only _just_ got everything into position," Chris said. "If we have to find a new cast, you'll have to wait another two, three years."

The dark figure groaned. "But I'm _tired_ of waiting! I'm _bored!_ "

"Then you'd better keep your head down," Chris said. "No more of that premature taunting, dude."

"Oh please," the figure said. "He didn't tell anybody else."

"And how do you know that?" Chris asked.

The dark figure swiveled its head around like an owl. "Because I. See. All."


	29. The Brickhouse with Heart

"Uh, yeah, there are cameras all over the island," Chris said, unimpressed. "So what, you just watched to see what he'd do?"

"Yes," the figure said. "And soon...very soon..."

"Yeah, whatever," Chris said. "All I care about is that next season is going to be the best season ever, thanks to your generous...offer, shall we say."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," the figure said. "After all, you've offered me so much in return."

"So you're sure nobody will stop us?" Chris asked.

"Who could?" the figure replied.

* * *

 **Enter...  
RUBY GLOOM**

Six players left. Just six players left. And I'm one of them.

I can't believe it. After all this time, where I've been telling everybody that I just wanna go home, I'm still on the island. What does it take to get out of this place?

The hardest part isn't being here, really. It's that nobody else wants to be here either. I mean, sure, they don't want to go home, well okay, I'm not phrasing this right, they don't want to go home _without the money_. But nobody actually likes the other people here. I'm pretty sure that everybody only voted for Steve and Andy to get immunity because they didn't hate them and didn't think of them as threats. Which sucks! People are more than just obstacles! They're human beings, with emotions and ideas and wants and needs and everything that makes them people! But nobody here wants to see the others as people, they just see them as problems that keep getting in their way, and that's why I just want to leave.

It's not working out the way I want, though. Everybody seems to be determined not to vote me off. I'm sure that if I asked him, Steve would say he voted for me, but I know he didn't. I know that he must have been lying to me this whole time, saying that he'll vote for me, and then voting for somebody else. I just can't figure out why. That's what's most frustrating. I know that it would be best for everybody if I just got to leave the island, but they won't let me go! It's horrible!

It's almost as horrible as how everybody's acting today. Everybody's sitting apart from each other. The only people who seem to be anywhere near each other are Steve and Andy, and they aren't talking either. Breakfast is just happening in complete silence, because apparently nobody has any friends, and while I know that I should find this sad I'm starting to become numb to it because it just seems so normal for this place, which is probably the saddest thing of all!

The doors flew open, and Chris stepped in with a huge grin on his face. It's never a good sign when he does that.

"Well good morning, campers!" Chris said smoothly. "I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, you're going to have another ex-contestant host today!"

"So what's the good news?" Steve asked through a mouthful of food.

"The good news is, he _really_ didn't want to come back!" Chris said cheerfully. "And when I say he really didn't want to come back, I mean there was whining, kicking, screaming, biting, pleading, everything! We had to sedate the guy to get him out here! So of course, he didn't have time to come up with a challenge, and that meant I had to step in to take care of it."

"So the good news is that we have to do one of _your_ challenges?" Wendy asked doubtfully.

Chris rubbed his hands together wickedly. "Oh, yes. One of _my_ challenges. Chef, bring him in!"

Chef wheeled in a hand cart. Strapped to it was a large, muscular man wearing a blindfold.

"Chris?" the man said nervously. "C'mon, man, this ain't right! This ain't cool! Dude, let me outta here! Please? Chef, c'mon, you can't still be bitter about that Action thing, right? Guys?"

Chef stopped in the middle of the cafeteria and whipped the man's blindfold off. The man opened his eyes and began screaming.

"CHEF!" Chris yelled after a few seconds. Chef shoved the blindfold into the man's mouth, gagging him.

"That's better," Chris said. "So, I spent a lot of time thinking about what to do today. I mean, sure, I could have done something that played off of DJ's scaredy-cat persona. But that seemed like low-hanging fruit. And I suppose I could have done something with his muscles, but he never really used them for much on this show. So instead, I decided to go with something I _knew_ would bring in the ratings and the injuries: animals!"

The new guy, who I could only assume was named DJ, began fighting his bonds more violently and trying to protest through the gag in his mouth, but none of us could understand him, and Chris just watched him struggle and laughed.

"That's right," Chris said. "Everybody is going to have to find an animal, make it their beloved pet, and teach it a few tricks. Then you guys have to bring it over to the stage and show it off to us. Me, Chef, and DJ will be the judges. Chef?"

Chef held out a box with a hole in the top.

"Inside this box are several cards, each with an animal on it," Chris continued. "You will each come up and select one. There is no trading! Whatever animal you get, that's the one you have to capture and train! So, Andy...you're up first!"

Andy walked up to the box, put his hand in, and pulled out a piece of paper with a picture of a rabbit on it.

"A rabbit? Seriously?" he asked. "This should be easy."

"Oh, it should be," Chris agreed. "But let's see if Steve thinks his animal is so easy!"

Steve walked up and pulled out another piece of paper. His eyes widened.

"I have to trap a raccoon?" he asked.

"That's right!" Chris said. "I just hope that the next animal is something tough."

"Tough?" Steve said, shocked. "I could get rabies! Or at least get really scratched up!"

"Yeah, but that's not really going to bring in the ratings," Chris said. "You know what will? Fighting a shark. So, Wendy, what are you gonna pull out?"

Wendy walked up and pulled out a picture of a beaver.

"Yes!" Wendy said excitedly. "I get to work with a fellow lumberjack!"

"What, you're not worried?" Chris asked, shocked. "You know, with the fact that you'll probably have to fight it all the way?"

Wendy shrugged. "My dad already made me fight some lumberjacks as part of apocalypse training. How hard can a beaver be?"

"Hopefully pretty hard," Chris said. "Anyway, Aunt Grandma!"

Aunt Grandma reached into the box. When she saw what she had gotten, her eyes widened.

"A _bear?_ " she asked incredulously. "I'm supposed to train a bear in less than an afternoon?"

"Yep!" Chris said happily. "Good luck with that. Ruby!"

I walked up and pulled out a piece of paper with a picture of a deer on it.

"Oh come on!" Chris complained. "Is nobody gonna draw the shark? We put it in there three times!"

"So I'm supposed to make a deer friend?" I asked.

Chris groaned. "Yes. That's exactly how this works. Now Boris, get up here and pull a shark."

Boris walked up to the box nervously. He put his hand in and pulled out a piece of paper. When he saw what was on it, his nervous frown turned into a huge grin.

"Oh come on!" Chris said. "A snake? Really? Ugh, fine. Any questions?"

DJ mumbled something behind his gag.

"No, you can't go home," Chris said. "This is your challenge. Get over it. Anybody else have any questions?"

Steve raised his hand.

"Good!" Chris said. "In that case–"

"Is there anything we can get to help us with the animals?" Steve interrupted.

Chris frowned. "Did you just interrupt me?"

Steve shrugged. "Would you have answered my question if I didn't?"

Chris thought about it for a second and then smiled. "Fine. Here's your answer: no. You don't get to use anything to help you except for your wits, brains, muscles...y'know, all the things you lack. Chef? We roll!"

Chris walked out the doors, followed by DJ, who was wheeled along by Chef.

Aunt Grandma cracked her knuckles and her neck. "Well, I believe it's time for me to bag a bear."

"Yesssss..." Boris hissed. "A snake will find itself in my grasp very, very soon."

"Anybody seen any carrots?" Andy asked.

* * *

So there I was, faced with a conundrum. On the one hand, making friends with a deer would be great, especially since I really miss Doom. But on the other hand, I want to go home, and I might end up winning immunity from tonight's vote if I actually participate.

Who am I kidding? I was going to do it anyway. Having a deer friend is too nice an opportunity to pass up. The only question is where I'll find one.

I headed out into the woods to look for a deer. It took me a while, but eventually I happened upon one that didn't run off as soon as it saw me. I knew that this was my chance, so I slowly eased my way toward it. When it didn't take off, I gently petted it, and when it leaned into me I laughed and plucked some berries from a nearby branch. The deer ate the berries out of my hand, and I picked some more berries and held them out behind me as I walked away. The deer followed, and I kept feeding it berries as we walked back to camp. I had gotten most of the way back to camp when I spotted Steve, looking tired and frantic as he stared up into a tree.

"Hey, Steve, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Raccoon," he panted. "Up–a tree–scratching and running." He looked at me, and his face brightened. "But hey, I see you got your deer!"

I rubbed my arm nervously. "Yeah...say...you want some help?"

"That would be–are you sure?" he asked. "Because you probably have a lot on your mind with the training."

I shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Besides, what are friends for?"

Besides lying to your face, like Steve does. Wait, where did that thought come from?

I shook my head to shake off the thoughts about Steve lying to me and started to climb the tree. After a bit, I reached the middle of the tree, and I saw the raccoon sitting on a branch.

"C'mon," I coaxed it. "Help Steve out. He's friendly. You want a friend, don't you?"

The raccoon looked at me and chittered. I eased out onto the branch.

"C'mon, be my friend," I said sweetly. "And Steve's friend. Okay?"

The raccoon took a step towards me. I crawled further out towards it.

"That's it," I said kindly. "I'm sure–"

The raccoon leapt forward and dug its' claws into my face. I screamed as it scratched at me and lost my balance. We tumbled to the ground, the raccoon still scratching me as we fell.

* * *

"I keep telling you, she's fine! Don't you trust me as a doctor?"

I slowly blinked into consciousness. Everything hurt.

"Not really," Steve said. "I mean, I took some classes in medicine, just in case, so–"

"Buzz off, smart boy!" Chef said angrily. "I still have to give her a few more shots and some anesthetics, and I have to do it before she wakes...oh."

Chef noticed I was awake as he leaned over me.

"Uh, yeah," he said awkwardly. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I fell out of a tree?" I guessed.

"Yeah," Chef said. "And now we've gotta get you patched up. So just hold still..."

Chef shoved a needle into a vein in my arm. Seconds later he pulled it out.

"There," he said. "That's a local anesthetic. You shouldn't feel anything."

Chef turned away to pick up another needle. That's when the lights dimmed and went out.

* * *

 _ruby hey wake up_

 _hey ruby hey wake up_

 _i opened my eyes and saw flickering candles around my bed even though it wasn't dark outside_

 _what's going on i asked_

 _wake up ruby it's midafternoon_

 _i got up and everything hurt_

 _i pulled on my clothes and walked out of my room and into a gigantic foyer that looked like the one in my house only larger and with much different architecture_

 _southern colonial instead of gothic_

 _there were a bunch of people there dancing to music that hung over the hall casting shadows as it played_

 _the people were all ghosts_

 _and i found myself walking a tightrope while trapezes swung by below me through circles of flame_

 _hey ruby she called_

 _i saw her with her long black hair flowing out behind her and her one eye glistening with joy as she looked up at me_

 _hey iris i called back how does the trapeze feel_

 _fantastic she yelled up to me woohoo_

 _and thats when i couldnt remember my name_

 _hey ruby i figured out who my ancestors must have been_

 _and i looked down and remembered skullboy and felt sorrow but not for long as an elephant stampede headed for us_

 _so i grabbed skullboy and we ran until a trunk curled around us and the elephant lifted us onto its back and carried us_

 _all the way to mr mummbles house_

 _where the rides were running_

 _and i looked up at the tiltawhirl_

 _and everyone on it were ghosts_

 _and they smiled and invited us aboard_

 _you go ahead ill lock up everything mr mummbles told us_

 _so we went aboard and the tiltawhirl spun into the blue lights and i looked over at skullboy and he looked back at me and we both looked away_

 _everyone can see it you know mr buns said_

 _what_

 _everyone can see it youre not fooling anybody_

 _i dont know what youre talking about_

 _whatever you tell yourself to get to sleep_

 _i threw my hand in the air and watched the dust circle around it and when i looked around again skele-t was sitting next to me_

 _he raised his glass to me and took a swig and then threw it on the floor_

 _i'll have another_

 _so i got up and left and walked out into the desert where i lay down and stared up at the stars_

 _the stars looked a lot like the roof of a tent_

* * *

"You okay?" the mint ice cream cone asked me.

I smiled at it happily. "Never better!"

"Well, we're finished giving you your shots," it said. "How about you get up and walk around."

I hopped out of bed and walked over to the deer standing at the corner of the tent. It looked up at me with rainbows in its' eyes.

"See? I feel great," I told the ice cream cone.

"And no side effects?" it asked. "One of the warnings that comes with the anesthetic is that it can cause vivid hallucinations."

"Nope!" I said. "Everything is perfect!" I leaned down to whisper to the deer. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," the deer said in a surprisingly deep voice. "Come with me, child of stardust, and we will walk the orchids ecstatic."

"Okay, I guess you're good to go," the ice cream cone said. "Good thing, too. The contest starts in fifteen minutes. Which reminds me, I gotta get going."

"Fifteen minutes?" I cried. "I'll never be able to train you in time!"

The deer laughed. "Of course not. I don't need to be trained."

"So you're ready then?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course," the deer said. "Take me to the stage, and we will amaze and astound everyone there."

"Okay!" I said happily. I waved to the ice cream cone. "Bye mint ice cream!"

"Yeah, yeah," it said, not really paying attention. "Wait. What?"

* * *

We showed up just in time.

"Good, you're here," a scarecrow said to me. "We were afraid you wouldn't show up."

"C'mon, Chris," the giant stuffed rabbit sitting next to it said. "Let me go, man! I won't tell anybody."

The scarecrow looked at the rabbit sternly. "Dude. It's your episode. Get used to it."

The ice cream cone rode up on a giant fox. "Sorry I'm late. Everybody ready?"

"Yeah, everyone's here," the scarecrow said. He whistled, and everyone snapped to attention. "Okay! Everybody's here, so let's start the show! First up is Steve!"

A ball of darkness dripping slime behind it climbed onto the stage and floated there awkwardly.

"Well where is it?" the scarecrow snapped. "We don't have all day, dude!"

"I didn't manage to get my pet," the ball of darkness admitted. It dripped slime more fervently. "So I didn't bring one."

"Zeroes across the board!" the scarecrow announced. "Next up is Andy!"

It's weird that the creepy ball had the same name as Steve. I mean, they're nothing alike. One of them is a nice guy who refuses to vote for me, and the other gives off evil vibes and wants to destroy everyone. I guess it just shows that names mean nothing. After all, there's probably somebody out there named Ruby who's an absolutely horrible person, although I hope that isn't the case, even though this show does its best to prove that people are horrible.

"Yeah," Andy said. He looked a little blurry. "I didn't get my pet either. Did you know rabbits are fast?"

The scarecrow groaned. "Fine. Did _anybody_ get their animal?"

A bag of ice hopped onto the stage. "We have a demonstration about something both lumberjacks and beavers do: bring down trees."

"Oh, kill me now!" the scarecrow groaned.

"Chris!" the stuffed rabbit complained. It smiled at the bag of ice. "Go on."

"Well, we decided to demonstrate with these two logs," the bag said. It set the logs on the stage. "Here goes!"

A small robot danced onto the stage and ate one of the logs while the bag of ice swung a flaming sword at the other log, chopping it into pieces. When both were done, they bowed to us.

"That...was totally boring," the scarecrow said. "But at least it was something. I give it a two. Chef?"

"Three," the ice cream cone said. "It _was_ pretty boring."

"Well I liked it," the stuffed rabbit said. "It was something both of them could enjoy, especially the beaver. I give it an eight."

The scarecrow rolled its' eyes. "Fine. Ruby?"

That's me, I think. I walked onto the stage with the deer by my side.

"So what're you gonna do?" the stuffed rabbit asked kindly.

"I don't know," I admitted. "The deer–"

"Gregory," the deer corrected.

"Gregory," I said. "Well, he said that I should just let him worry about it."

The three sitting at the table–the scarecrow, the stuffed rabbit, and the ice cream cone–all looked at me with disturbed expressions.

"I think I gave her too much medicine," the ice cream cone said.

Gregory cleared his throat. "Friends, gentlemen, ladies, assorted creatures of all shapes and sizes, allow me to welcome you to the world of magic and mischief!" His eyeball fell out, so he picked it up, licked it, and popped it back in. "Ignore that if you would. Now, allow me to demonstrate the power of magic by...turning Andy into a giant rat!"

Andy turned into a giant rat.

"Shit," Andy remarked.

"And that's not all!" Gregory said. "Now watch, as the rat dances to the sounds of a lullaby with a disco beat!"

A lullaby with a disco beat began to play, and Andy the rat began to dance.

"I'm not enjoying this!" Andy said loudly. "Dancing is forbidden!"

"Correct you are, it's mystery time!" Gregory announced. "Now marvel at the mystery that is me, growing dragon wings and flying off into the distance!"

Dragon wings unfurled from Gregory's back, and he flew away.

"Well..." the scarecrow said. "Since your pet did nothing and then left, I'm giving you four points, mostly because the weird story you narrated was kind of entertaining. In a dumb way."

"Dumb?" the stuffed rabbit said incredulously. "It made no sense! The deer was obviously completely confused! Three points."

"Uh, that's my fault," the ice cream cone said. "I think I may have given her too much medicine, and she's hallucinating...five points."

"Fine, whatever," the scarecrow said. "Aunt Grandma! Do you have a bear?"

A large red rectangle with burning green eyes dragged a small yellow triangle with scared blue eyes onto the stage. The red rectangle leaned over the triangle, and the triangle ran away as the rectangle gave chase. The chase went on for several minutes until the triangle fell over onto the ground. It eased along its' back, looking up at the rectangle with scared eyes. The eyes of the rectangle grew more fierce and hungry until the rectangle fell on top of the triangle, hiding it from view.

"Finally, some good TV!" the scarecrow said. "That was a bit mean, but I'm pretty sure we can get away with it. I give it a nine."

"No way, man!" the stuffed rabbit said. "She hurt that poor, defenseless animal!"

"It was a bear!" the red rectangle complained. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Not this!" the stuffed rabbit said. "I didn't want to be here in the first place, and now you're hurting animals? No way, man! No way! Zero!"

The ice cream cone rolled its' eyes. "Whatever. I'll give it a seven."

"And with...hold on...sixteen points, Aunt Grandma is now in the lead!" the scarecrow said happily. "And we're down to our last contestant. Boris, get up here!"

Two snakes slithered onto the stage. One of them was large and black, with glowing red eyes and anger in its' stare. The other one was small, green, and friendly. They came apart and then intertwined and hissed angrily at all of us.

"SNAKE!" the stuffed rabbit screamed. It tore itself loose from the hand cart it was strapped to and hopped off into the distance, screaming all the way.

"Well, that's a zero from DJ and ten from me. Hey, any time you get somebody to run away from your performance in terror, you must've done something right," the scarecrow said. "Chef, your verdict?"

"Dude, putting a snake card in the box? Not cool," the ice cream cone said to the scarecrow. "Three points."

"Whatever," the scarecrow said. "Aunt Grandma wins! I'll see you all tonight at the elimination ceremony. Good luck!"


	30. The Funniest Guy Around

It was about an hour later and an hour before dinner when Steve reentered his cabin. He nodded to the figure on the opposite bed.

"Yo," Andy said. "Find what you were looking for?"

Steve shrugged. "I wasn't really looking for anything. You find anything?"

"Yeah," Andy said. "I found out that reading magazines you've already read gets really boring, really fast."

"True," Steve admitted. "So, who do you want to vote off tonight?"

"I was thinking Boris," Andy said. "The guy seems like he's targeting me."

Steve smiled. "You need to be safe from him?"

"That'd probably help," Andy said. "How about you?"

Steve shrugged. "I wanted to get rid of Aunt Grandma, but she has immunity."

"Why don't we get rid of her next?" Andy suggested. "That way, we'll get rid of the people we hate the most early."

"I like the way you think," Steve said. "Boris tonight, tomorrow Aunt Grandma."

Andy grinned. "You're on."

* * *

Aunt Grandma threw open the door to the cabin and grinned at Wendy. Wendy looked at her, nonplussed.

"What do you want?" Wendy asked, sounding incredibly bored.

"I want to know if you're regretting throwing me out of that tree yet," Aunt Grandma said.

Wendy shrugged. "Meh. Don't really care."

"Oh really?" Aunt Grandma asked. "Why not?"

"Because Boris is going home tonight," Wendy said.

Aunt Grandma tilted her head questioningly. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't like him, Andy doesn't like him...seems simple enough," Wendy said.

"So?" Aunt Grandma asked. "There have been _plenty_ of times when the person who was supposed to go home stayed on. Or have you forgotten about Ruby, hallucinating on the other side of the wall?"

Wendy shrugged again. "I don't pretend to know what you and Steve were thinking. But do you really think Boris is sticking around very long?"

"Do you think _you_ are?" Aunt Grandma asked.

"Yes," Wendy said.

Aunt Grandma looked at her and nodded. "You've got a point." She smiled sinisterly. "You have a point."

* * *

Ruby stared at the wall of her room. "Why yes, Mrs. Floating Orb of Light, I would love some tacos! With extra beans, if you please!"

* * *

An hour later, everybody but Ruby was at dinner. Nobody sat with each other except for Steve and Andy, who sat together and conversed about nothing in particular. Despite this, everybody in the cafeteria was trying to size the other competitors up and lay out a new strategy for the next few games–including Steve and Andy.

Boris's focus was mainly on Andy, as he was thinking of ways to get rid of Andy in the near future. The fact that Steve and Andy seemed to be forming a friendship wasn't a good thing, in his opinion, especially since it restricted his options for allies to Wendy and Aunt Grandma since Ruby would vote herself off. This was made more complex by the fact that he knew Wendy had a problem with him, and would be gunning for him. The question for him therefore became how he could get rid of Andy without putting himself in danger, but no matter how much he tried to find a way around it, the facts seemed incontrovertible: Andy could not be gotten rid of at this point in time. Instead, Boris would have to focus his attention elsewhere.

While Boris was contemplating Andy, Aunt Grandma was doing much the same with Wendy. After all, she and Wendy were the strongest players left. This meant that for the foreseeable future, she and Wendy would be competing for the top spot in almost every contest. On top of this, although she was sure she was the better competitor, Wendy might be able to squeeze out wins at vital times–and given that they'd both have targets on their backs, that could be a problem.

As Aunt Grandma thought about the ramifications of the fact that she and Wendy were locked into competition with each other, Andy continued to listen to Steve and offer his own opinions while in the back of his mind thoughts percolated, most of them centered around three very salient facts: that Boris wanted to get rid of him, that Aunt Grandma and Wendy were probably the strongest players remaining, and that when Ruby's vote was discounted, he and Steve still made up a minority of the votes on the island. He didn't let these thoughts surface, but they were there and would come back to haunt him later that night when he was trying to get to sleep.

Steve had no such worries. He knew that he wasn't the biggest target for anybody around by a long shot. Wendy, Aunt Grandma, Boris, even Andy had made themselves into targets. Steve had done exactly the opposite, and he was sure that he could slip under the radar all the way to the finale.

Wendy knew she was a target, and she was busy assessing what to do. Obviously Boris was her primary target, but after that she'd just have to make sure that she could consistently win immunity. Which meant, of course, that she had to get rid of the _other_ strongest player on the island: her roommate. That could be a problem, because to get rid of Aunt Grandma, she'd need some help from the other players. She'd need to gain their trust, and that wasn't going to be easy, because if there's one thing Wendy had learned, it was that nobody on the island could be trusted.

* * *

"Oh, you're so funny, inside-out radio microphone!" Ruby said happily. "Tell me another story, please!"

"Okay, campers, this is it!" Chris said through the loudspeakers. "It's voting time! Cast your votes and then come over to the campfire ceremony to find out who's going home and who's staying safe for one more day!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, inside-out radio microphone, but I have to go now," Ruby said. "What's that, magical limousine-driving anaconda? You'll take me there? Well let's go!"

* * *

Geoff walked up to the podium with a huge grin on his face. "Yo yo yo, what's up my peeps! Dang, it's great to be back here. How're you guys doing?"

Geoff did not get any response at all from the campers except for from Ruby, who waved at him with a goofy smile on her face.

"Huh," Geoff said. "Well, okay then. So! I bet you're all wondering who got marshmallows, huh?"

Nobody responded to this question either. Geoff frowned.

"C'mon, guys, it's the final six!" he said pleadingly. "This is supposed to be like, one big party! Okay so maybe it wasn't when I made it there, but still! Guys! You're halfway there!"

"Yeah, see, halfway isn't all the way," Wendy said.

"And I know _I_ don't trust anybody here," Aunt Grandma added.

"Who would? You'd have to be crazy to!" Boris said.

"Oh, Captain Danger Spleen, you're such a good navigator!" Ruby said.

Geoff looked disturbed. "Uh, right. Okay. So, I'll just give out the marshmallows now. Aunt Grandma, Steve, Ruby, Andy, you all get one." He tossed them the marshmallows. "So it's down to you to. Boris and Wendy. You've both made some enemies, and I get the sense you don't like each other. So who's gonna get the last marshmallow?"

"Me," Boris said.

Geoff shrugged. "Okay."

"What, really?" Wendy asked, shocked. "Are you KIDDING ME right now?"

"Nope," Geoff said. He reached under the podium and pulled out another marshmallow. "Because today's challenge wasn't an elimination challenge!" He tossed marshmallows to Wendy and Boris, making sure to give Boris his marshmallow last. "It was a prize challenge, and the prize is that the winner and a competitor of their choice get to have a gourmet breakfast cooked by none other than DJ and his mama tomorrow morning! So, Aunt Grandma, who are you gonna take?"

Aunt Grandma looked over all her competitors. Steve looked unworried, Andy looked enthusiastic, Boris and Wendy were both glaring at each other, and Ruby was staring into space with dilated pupils and a glazed look on her face.

"Wendy," Aunt Grandma said.

"What?" everybody by the campfire said in unison.

"Wendy?" Geoff said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Aunt Grandma said. "I am absolutely certain."

Geoff shrugged. "All right then, Wendy it is! Ciao, amigos!"

Geoff left the campfire. Shortly thereafter, everybody began to disperse. As Wendy moved to leave, Aunt Grandma grabbed her shoulder.

"We need to talk," Aunt Grandma said.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Ruby Gloom: Steve  
Aunt Grandma: Boris Badenov  
Wendy Corduroy: Boris Badenov  
Andy French: Boris Badenov  
Steve: Boris Badenov  
Boris Badenov: Wendy Corduroy

Final tally of votes cast:

Boris Badenov: 4  
Wendy Corduroy: 1  
Steve: 1


	31. The Chris Wannabe

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

She crossed her arms. "What do you want?"

"I told you, we need to talk," I said.

"Uh-huh," she said. "And this has something to do with breakfast tomorrow?"

"Perhaps," I said. "But it has more to do with the competition today."

"You punched a bear in the nose. Repeatedly," she said. "What, am I supposed to suddenly believe you're an animal lover?"

I scowled. "That's not the point."

"Then what _is_ your point, and why do we have to talk about it here?" Wendy asked.

"Because I don't want to have to deal with random statements about talking toasters coming through the wall and undercutting my point!" I said angrily.

She looked over towards our cabin and slowly nodded.

"Okay, yeah, good point," she said. "What was _in_ that medication Chef gave her?"

I rolled my eyes. "That assumes he gave her medication. I wouldn't put it past him to use whatever was lying around the kitchen to treat her."

"Fine," she said. She crossed her arms again. "Talk."

"Okay," I said, rubbing my hands together. "I'm sure you've noticed, but Wendy, you and I are the two strongest players left, and certainly two of the most intelligent."

"So what?" she asked. "You want us to have breakfast together and pick my brains?"

"So, that means that there are targets on our backs," I said. "Even if we assume that Ruby's voting for herself, which I _sincerely_ doubt, we're still outnumbered three to two. I don't care if Boris wants to get rid of Andy or Andy wants to get rid of Boris, any way you slice it, the day one of us doesn't have immunity is the day one of us goes home."

Wendy scoffed. "Please. You really think anybody's going to get over the grudges they have with each other?"

"Maybe you won't," I said. "But that doesn't mean they can't. And even if you don't care–because hey, maybe you win next time and I get sent home–well, that just transfers the target from my back to yours. And vice versa."

She glared at me. "So what, you're proposing an alliance?"

"Of votes," I clarified. "If we work together and the others spot it, we'll definitely be the biggest targets. If we seem antagonistic to each other in public, we won't seem threatening. But so long as we vote together, we can make it to the final three."

"The final three?" she asked. "What, not going to promise me the finale?"

I smirked. "I don't want to have to face off against you any more than you want to face off against me."

"...that's fair," she admitted. "So how do I know I can trust you?"

I gave her a gentle smile. "Why, I'm Aunt Grandma, of course."

Wendy gave me an unimpressed look. I heaved a sigh.

"Fine. Think of it as mutually assured destruction. Like I said, as soon as you leave, I'm the biggest target. As soon as I leave, you're the biggest target. It's better for both of us if we work together instead of constantly butting heads."

"...I'll think about it," she said after a long pause.

"Good!" I said, sounding as chipper as I could manage. "See you at breakfast tomorrow!"

We headed back to our cabin and bunked down for the night. Once we were settled in, though, I swear we watched each other in the dark. By now, it had become natural for both of us to keep an eye on each other. I got the sense that Wendy didn't quite trust me, but that was just fine. I didn't trust her either.

Tonight, though, I was the first one to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Somebody rapped on our door sharply. Wendy and I rose at the same time to answer it. I asked her with my eyes whether she wanted to get the door, and Wendy rolled her eyes and padded over to the door. She threw it open, revealing the hulking presence of Chef Hatchet.

"What do you want?" Wendy asked sleepily.

"Come with me, mademoiselles, to where your delicious breakfast awaits," Chef said.

"Isn't it in the mess hall?" she asked.

Chef grinned. "Nope!"

"Fine," I said. "Give us a few minutes to get dressed."

* * *

A few minutes later we were standing on the dock as the sun slowly rose over the horizon.

"Not that the sunrise isn't beautiful," I said, "but is there a reason you got us up so early?"

"Yeah," Wendy said. "Why'd you get us up so early?"

"Well, today's host is going to do the same thing," Chef said. "So if we wanted to get you your breakfast, we had to get you up even earlier."

"And that's all?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, uh, let's just say Chris and this guy aren't on the best of terms," he said. "I mean, Chris was kind of impressed by his chutzpah, and that's why he's coming back today to host a challenge, but Chris doesn't exactly want to make it easy on him. So he figured he'd send you out early, and by the time you came back everyone would've been waiting a while. Today's host looks like an idiot, Chris gets to laugh at him, you get the idea. And hey, if the guy can pull off hosting duties well enough, that's an even bigger bonus."

"Speaking of which, where is Chris?" I asked.

"Right behind you," a familiar voice said.

We spun around to see Chris standing behind us. Well, only Wendy and I spun around. Chef didn't react at all.

Chris flashed his million-watt smile at us. "Yeah, I didn't choose today at random, y'know. I have an awards ceremony to host, so I figured why not give this guy the opportunity he's always dreamed of. If it works, we get a good episode. If it doesn't, we get a hilarious episode. Either way, I win."

"You're coming with us?" Wendy asked, surprised.

"Why not?" Chris asked. "We're on a tight budget. This should help extend it enough to get another portrait of me commissioned."

Before Chris's ego could grow even larger, a fancy boat pulled up to the dock.

"Alright, this is your ride," Chef said. "Chris, you gonna be okay?"

Chris grinned. "I have everything I need, Chef my man."

"Okay, good luck," Chef said.

We climbed aboard the boat.

* * *

"You know, this is really quite good," I said. I wasn't lying. Breakfast was indeed delicious, and after a while I had gotten so I wasn't really noticing the rocking of the boat we were on.

"Of course it is," Wendy said. "DJ and his mama made it."

I looked at her quizzically. She decided to elaborate.

"See, DJ's a really good cook, and his mama's a good cook too, so after the second season they opened up a restaurant. It was a huge hit until they got deluged with lawsuits since they were using too much butter and fat and–well, basically, eating there put several people into early graves, and they ended up broke."

I looked down at my almost empty plate. "So you're saying that breakfast–"

"Probably took a year off your life," she finished my thought. "Worth it, though, wasn't it?"

 _when the achilles tendon ruptures a snapping sound may be heard as walking becomes difficult if not impossible_

"Sure," I said.

"So what's your plan?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"You had a plan last night," Wendy said. "I want to hear more."

"Right," I said. I speared the last few bits of my omelette. "Well, I was thinking that in public, we act like enemies. In private, we vote the same way whenever we can. That way, we protect ourselves from each others' vote, and we keep some of the pressure off of us."

"Uh-huh," she said. "And how do you know we won't get voted out anyway?"

"I don't," I admitted. "It's a calculated risk. But chances are one of us will win immunity in every challenge from now on. And instead of constantly trying to get rid of the other one and giving the weaker players a chance to sneak in, we can take control together and minimize the chance we both leave before the finale. So are you interested?"

She looked me over for a few seconds. "Okay. I'm in. But this better work."

"Don't worry," I told her. "It should."

* * *

We pulled up at the dock of Camp Wawanakwa about forty minutes later. DJ, his mother, and Chris had all disembarked at a separate island, and from there the boat had turned around and brought us right back to Wawanakwa. A teenager with light brown hair was waiting for us with a frown on his face. He was standing next to the other campers.

"Where were you?" he asked angrily. "I got everybody out of bed an hour ago only to be told that you two were off having breakfast!"

"We were off having breakfast," Wendy said calmly. "What do you care, shorty?"

"I'm not short!" the teenager said angrily. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. "Fine. So, I'm Topher, as you may know–"

"Never seen you before in my life," Wendy said.

Topher frowned. "Well, fine then. I guess somebody isn't a Total Drama connoisseur. _But_ , I'm your host for today, and I gotta tell you I'm flying solo."

Chef cleared his throat.

"Solo, with the help of the one and only Chef Hatchet, isn't he great everybody!" Topher proclaimed. "But seriously. I've been watching this season, and the challenges have been totally lame. Friendship challenge? Pampering challenge? Weightlifting challenge? Total Drama is all about pain, people! And this season has been seriously short on pain. Has Chris lost his edge? Of course not! It's the other former campers who are totally edgeless. But get ready, because today we're coming at you with the Topher Experience. And believe me, _Topher_ has edge."

He grinned and gestured to six jetskis sitting by the shore. "So how does this edge start? It starts with a race to Boney Island on these special jetskis!"

Wendy and Steve gasped.

"What makes them so special?" Topher asked rhetorically. "They're almost completely immune to damage! They're practically impossible to stop–and trust me, you guys are gonna need them to get through the special surprises I have planned. Once on Boney Island, you have to find your way to a special part of the island that we've set up just for today. Don't worry, though: once you get there, _you'll_ be the _center_ of the _action!_ "

Topher turned back to us with a huge grin on his face. We stared back at him for a few seconds.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Topher asked. "It's time to go, people!"

We all took off for the jetskis. I got to the first one and leapt aboard, pressing the start button in one swift motion. The engine roared to life, and I gunned the motor and roared away from the beach and toward the foreboding island in the distance.

I was humming along smoothly when I heard an explosion and my jetski flew out of the water. I wiped my wet hair away from my face.

"What the hell was that?" I yelled.

"Mines!" I heard Topher say through a megaphone. I looked up and saw him riding in a hot air balloon above us. "I told you there'd be surprises!"

 _studies have shown links between a person's emotional state and their health outcomes; it is literally possible for somebody to die of sadness_

What kind of a psycho thinks mines are a good idea?

I barely had time to wonder about this before I saw streaks of red come plummeting down from above. I had no idea what was going on until I saw several sharks surface, and it was at that point that I realized Topher was chumming the waters.

 _orcas are some of the most vicious predators of the deep, to such an extent that great white sharks are known to leave if orcas are spotted in the area_

I swerved through the shark-infested waters, narrowly missing the sharks and hitting several mines along the way. One positive thing I could say about Topher is that he wasn't lying about the jetski, which kept humming along despite taking quite a pounding. Soon, I was most of the way to the island when I saw several artillery nests on the shore. I barely had time to process this before I found myself being pelted with paintballs.

 _cutting the brake line is ineffective; it is much smarter to stress the line so that it is close to breaking but not broken yet so that it will be more likely to snap at an inopportune moment_

What kind of a psycho puts sharks, mines, and paintballers on a boat race?

I shut my eyes and steered straight for the shore, doing my best to ignore the paintballs slamming into me. I kept going until I slammed into the shore, at which point I flipped over the handlebars, landed in the sand, and skidded for a fair bit.

 _priscilla we can't stay here forever_

 _the beach is a vacation, not a home_

 _if you don't come with us right now we're leaving without you_

I picked myself up, doing my best to ignore the fact that sand was in all kinds of places it shouldn't be, and headed back towards the beach. Everyone else mostly came in hot like me, although Steve was the last to arrive and he was able to just ease his jetski onto the shore.

"Good!" Topher called down from above. "You all got to the island in one piece. Nice job." He landed the balloon next to us. "So, the next order of business is to find the secret hidden challenge location. Good thing is, I have a map!" He held it up. "And I'm going to give it to the person who arrived here first. Aunt Grandma?"

I stepped forward and held out my hand for the map. Topher held it out to me, then yanked it back, tore it up, and dropped the pieces in my hand.

 _torturing small animals as a child is one of the warning signs of a budding sociopath_

 _be worried if a child enjoys tearing the wings off of insects or stomping on ants_

 _also be worried if a child shows an affinity for knives_

"ARE YOU NUTS?" I roared.

"Don't worry!" Topher said. "I have a backup map."

Topher hopped back on board his balloon and took off.

"Where's the backup?" I called after him.

"I have it!" he called back. "How else do you expect me to find this place?"

"You suck, Topher!" Andy yelled up at him.

"But it makes for great TV!" Topher yelled back.

I was left seething as Topher's balloon disappeared in the fog.

"You know what sucks?" Wendy said. "If any of us want to win this and get off the island, we'll have to work together."

"Are you serious?" I asked angrily.

"Well, yeah," Wendy said. "Topher's balloon went off in that direction." She pointed after it. "Let's head that way and see if we can pick up a trail."

"What kind of a trail?" Andy asked. "Because uh, in case you hadn't noticed, on the way here that guy put mines and sharks in our way."

"And paintball," Ruby added.

"Right, and paintball," Andy said. "The guy's a psycho, and you think the best option is to go deep into some spooky woods so that he can play with us some more?"

"He's got a point," Steve said.

"Yeah, but if you decide to go back, what's to say that you don't get kicked off the show for refusing to participate?" Wendy asked. "Trust me, they'd do that."

"Really?" Andy asked skeptically.

"For wasting an episode?" I said. "I wouldn't be surprised if they did."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Boris asked. "Let's go."

"Yes, let's!" Ruby said perkily. "Anything could be waiting for us at the end of the trail!"

"Yeah, but it's probably not going to be anything good," Andy snarked.

* * *

We had been traveling for fifteen minutes when we came to the end of the trail Wendy had selected. We stood there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do next.

"So what now?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know," Wendy admitted.

Boris grinned. "I have an idea."

"No way," Wendy said angrily. "Any idea you come up with I want no part of."

"But it's a good idea!" Boris complained.

"C'mon, Wendy, just hear him out?" Ruby asked.

"No way!" Wendy said. "Boris, get this through your skull: I don't trust you."

"Well why not?" Boris asked. "I'm a perfectly trustworthy–"

Boris couldn't complete his sentence because he burst out laughing in the middle of protesting his trustworthiness.

"You can't even say it," Wendy said angrily. "I may have let you stab me in the back once, but it's not gonna happen again, understand?"

Boris recovered from his laughing fit. "C'mon, Wendy. It's a good idea."

"We might as well see what he has to say," I added. "It couldn't hurt, at least."

"Oh, words can hurt," Wendy said ominously. "Words can hurt."

"So do you want to hear my idea now?" Boris asked eagerly.

"Fine," Wendy said sharply. "What is it?"

"You climb a tree and tell us if you see where we should go," Boris said.

We stared at him, surprised.

"You know, that's actually a really good idea," Andy said.

"Yeah," Steve added. "Good job, Boris."

Boris grinned. Wendy groaned.

"Fine, I'll do it," she said. "But only because there's no way for Boris to stab me in the back."

"Shows what you know," Boris muttered.

"I'm gonna choose to ignore that," Wendy said. She took a deep breath and crouched down so she could jump. "Well, here goes."

Wendy jumped onto the tree and began shimmying up the bark. It wasn't very long until she reached the top.

"You see anything?" Steve called up to her.

"No, not really–wait!" Wendy called back. "I see what looks like a Ferris wheel, and some roller coasters, and–MONSTER BEAVERS!"

"What?" Steve called up, panicked.

"Monster beavers, headed towards us!" Wendy yelled back. "Just run!"

I looked up and saw Wendy leaping from tree to tree above us. I followed her, and everyone else followed me as we ran through the woods. The sounds of large animals approaching gradually grew louder, and behind us I heard the sound of timber falling. I raced beneath Wendy as she continued to jump from tree to tree and did my best to ignore the sound of oncoming doom.

 _an animal trapped in a corner is at its most dangerous because it is then that the option of flight is removed and the option of fight is the only one that remains_

We came upon a pair of golden gates with a sign above them that read "Palisades of Wawankwa." I didn't stop to ponder what this could possibly mean. Instead, we yanked the doors open, ran through, and slammed them shut behind us. Seconds later, Wendy jumped down from the trees outside and landed just inside the gate.

"Took you long enough," someone said. We turned around and saw Topher waiting for us, calmly drinking a glass of lemonade.

"Fuck you, Topher," Wendy said bitterly.

"That's a bit uncouth," Topher said. "Where's your happy attitude? This is a place of fun, after all."

"Boney Island? A place of fun?" Steve scoffed. "More like a place of horrible dismemberment!"

Topher took another sip of his lemonade. "Like I said. Fun."

"You know what? Whatever," Andy said grumpily. "Just tell us why we're here so I can get on with my life."

"That's gonna take a bit of a history lesson," Topher said. "And it all starts–and stays in–New Jersey. If Anne Maria were here, she might be able to provide the proper accent, but since she's not, I'm just going to tell about a few very, very special places in New Jersey."

"There are special places in New Jersey?" Wendy asked sarcastically. "What, did you come from there?"

"Oh, no," Topher said. "No. Nonono. Not New Jersey, not at all. Buuut, some very important things did come from there."

Topher paused. We looked at him expectantly.

"Okay, if you're not gonna prompt me, I'll just go for it," Topher said. "Way way back in the 1880s, Coney Island was already known for being a seaside resort. However, this was also the era when the first true amusement parks were being built, and Coney Island was primo real estate for amusement parks, with three different amusement parks all running there at one point. Coney Island was famous for its parks, but as time went by and the world moved on, Coney Island ceased to be such a great place. I mean, it still has a couple of parks, but the size and scope of them is nowhere near what it was during Coney Island's heyday, and the reputation it has for being an amusement park mecca is based on a distant past."

"So you turned Boney Island into Coney Island?" Andy asked.

"Nope!" Topher said. "I turned it into Action Park!"

Steve gulped loudly. We all turned to look at him.

"Okay," Boris said, sounding resigned. "Why is Action Park a bad thing?"

"I'm glad you asked," Topher said. "So, back in the 1980s, somebody in New Jersey got the bright idea to open a theme park where safety wasn't a concern at all. It was called Action Park, but because of the lack of safety precautions, it was known by locals as Ambulance Park, Traction Park, Accident Park...you get the picture. Anyway, the park was so dangerous that they actually ended up buying ambulances just for the park since at least five people would need to go to the hospital on any day with a decent crowd. Six people ended up dying." He grinned. "It sounds amazing, doesn't it? So of course, it ended up being shut down. But, when I was thinking about what I wanted to do today, Action Park came to mind. So we built it! Isn't that amazing?"

Ruby raised her hand. "Um, how are you going to make sure we don't die?"

Topher burst out laughing. "Good one! Make sure you don't die. Yeah, no, that'd be good for ratings. And besides, you all signed the waivers."

"So we're supposed to go off and have a fun day at an amusement park that could easily kill us?" Andy asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," Topher agreed. "Each of you has to ride five rides. That's all. Oh, and two of them have to be the wave pool and the looping waterslide."

As one, we looked over at the looping waterslide.

"Are you sure it's safe?" everybody but Steve asked.

Topher laughed again. "Here. Have these maps." He threw them to us. "After you complete each ride, you'll get a stamp on your map from the attendant. So uh, don't lose your map. And have fun!"

* * *

I walked away from the rest of the group and examined the map of the park. It was pretty obvious what I'd have to do: figure out what the safest three rides were and go on them. Not that I thought anything here would be particularly safe, but if I wanted to minimize the chance of injury that was going to be my best option.

The problem was that most of the names didn't give any hint about how safe the rides were. The Alpine Slide could be a simple slide, or it could be horrific. The Battle Action Tanks sounded dangerous, but they might be safe. I had nothing to tell me how dangerous any of the rides actually were.

Except for the looping waterslide. That thing was a spinal injury waiting to happen.

I rolled up my map and stuffed it into my clothes. I might as well get the wave pool over with.

* * *

"So, here for the wave pool?" the attendant asked me.

"Yes," I said. "Is it safe?"

"Is it safe she asks," she said sarcastically. "No, sugar, it ain't. You want me to hold your map for you?"

"That–that would be helpful," I admitted.

I handed over my map and waded into the pool. The attendant flicked a switch, and waves began to form in one end of the pool. The waves were small at first, but they began to grow in size until eventually they were five feet in height. I paddled against the waves, using all the swimming ability I had to fight the waves. After what seemed like an eternity but was closer to ten minutes, the waves began to shrink and eventually stopped coming.

"You're done, sugar!" she called to me.

I climbed out of the wave pool, dried myself off, and took my map from her. I exited the attraction, looking over my map, and decided that I might as well try the Alpine Slide.

* * *

The Alpine Slide was a bad decision. The ride was basically lying on a wheeled platform and riding it down a long hill. Which wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't fallen off about two-thirds of the way down and scraped up my left arm. Since the ride kept rolling, I had to walk to the bottom of the hill. I caught a break there since the attendant stamped my map anyway, but the whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth.

The next thing I decided to do was the Super Go-Karts. I guess I probably shouldn't have been surprised that Topher decided to make it more dangerous; after all, I'm pretty sure that no amusement park would intentionally leave clutter and explosives on a go-kart track (although from what Topher said about the park he was basing this on, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the governor devices were disabled on those karts too). Still, I managed to make it through the course thanks to my expert driving skills, and moved on to a fourth ride: the Aerodium.

This one wasn't too bad. It was one of those things where you put on a flight suit and giant fans push you into the air and make you feel like you're flying (or dropping forever, depending on how you look at it). I didn't have a problem with it until the fans were turned off. As I fell, I instinctively stuck my arms out to break my fall and dislocated my right arm.

I got up clutching my arm. "Is there a medical tent somewhere?" I asked the attendant.

She popped her gum. "Nope."

"Are you sure?" I asked, surprised. You'd think Topher would at least provide something for emergencies.

"Yep," she said. "You gonna let me stamp your map or what?"

Grumpily, I handed my map over for stamping. The only good news was that I had just one more ride to go on. Unfortunately, it was probably going to break my spine.

* * *

I got in line behind Steve. He had arrived a few seconds before I did, so he was going to go in front of me.

"Anything special I should do for this one?" he asked the attendant.

"Try not to die," the attendant said.

"O-kay," Steve said. "Any ideas about how to do that?"

"No."

Steve frowned and nervously boarded the slide. He went in one end and came out the other half a minute later, clutching his back. I stepped forward.

"So I just go on here?" I asked nervously.

"Yeah," the attendant said.

I climbed on and held myself straight and loose. Hopefully I wouldn't end up dying.

 _decapitation is quickly fatal with unconsciousness occurring within ten seconds due to a lack of oxygenated blood circulating about the brain_

I went down the slide, through the loop, and came out the other end. I was terrified the entire time, but miraculously, I wasn't injured. I took my map over to get stamped.

"So what do I do now?" I asked the attendant.

"I don't care," he said.

"Well, that's your fifth stamp, so you come with me!" Topher said. I turned around and saw him and everybody else standing a few feet away.

"How did you–" I started to ask.

"I've been keeping track of who's done what," Topher said. "And you were the last to finish, probably because you decided to walk the Alpine Slide. Dumb move, by the way. But everybody completed their five rides, so tonight is going to be a free-for-all in the voting booth! Do I know how to crank up the drama or what?"

"Or what is a good question," Andy muttered.

"Quiet, you," Topher said. "Because I'm a nice guy, I decided that we're all going to take a boat ride back. I mean, sure, I could've made you all use the jetskis again, but I figured that after today, you could use a break from the action. For now, anyway."

* * *

The ride back was uneventful apart from Chef taking some time to see to everybody's injuries. With me, he jammed my right arm back into place and bandaged up my left arm. It wasn't the best medical care I had ever received, but it was surprisingly adequate, especially when you consider who was helping me. He gave the same attention to everyone else on the boat, and probably didn't injure anybody else further.

The only bad part about taking the boat back was that I didn't get a chance to talk to Wendy, and that as soon as we arrived on Wawanakwa it was dinnertime. I made sure to sit as far away from Wendy as possible, which meant that everybody else was in between us. Something I noticed was that not only did Steve and Andy sit together, as they had been doing for the past few nights, but Ruby and Boris sat together as well. Although I wasn't sure what this could mean, I decided not to think about it too much. After all, once we got through tonight's vote Wendy and I would be close to running the game–if we were able to stay on.

Eventually, though, dinner ended. Wendy and I were the last ones out of the mess hall, and right before we left, I grabbed her shoulder.

"Boris?" I asked.

She nodded. "Boris."

* * *

We had been waiting for several minutes when Topher showed up again.

"Hey!" Steve complained. "Where's the marshmallow giver?"

Topher grinned. "That's me. Don't pretend you're not happy to see me."

"We're not," Andy groused. "We're supposed to have a different guy for the marshmallows."

"And none of us like you," Wendy added.

Topher shrugged. "Meh, not my problem. Your problem is that one of you is going to go home. Now let's see who it is. Aunt Grandma, you're creepy, have a weird name, you're pretty strong–in other words, everybody should want to get rid of you. Wendy, you're not creepy and you don't have a weird name, but you're also pretty strong and you have these occasional moments where it's pretty obvious you'd sell your soul to win."

"That is _not_ true!" Wendy protested.

"Either way, both of you get marshmallows," Topher said, tossing us the marshmallows. "Yeah, I'm shocked too. But let's move on. Andy, you spend a lot of time being a sarcastic jerk to everyone. Boris, you've made a fair few enemies, mostly because you switched sides so much while on the Predictable Formulas. That's the downside of being a swing vote, I guess. And...neither of you are getting marshmallows!"

We all gasped.

"That's right," Topher said. "Steve, Ruby, you two are safe."

"No!" Ruby moaned.

"Yes!" Topher said. "The final marshmallow is going to go to..."

Topher kept us hanging for about half a minute.

"Get on with it!" Andy snapped.

"Fine," Topher said, annoyed. "It goes to Andy."

Boris got up, looking resigned to his fate.

"Sorry, Boris, but it's time for you to go," Topher said. He smirked. "Is what I would say if this wasn't a reward challenge!"

Boris perked up. "What's the reward?"

"A fun day at an amusement park!" Topher said. "Also known as, today's challenge!"

"Boo!" Wendy said. We all joined in the booing.

"Oh, quit complaining, it was a good gag and you all know it," Topher said. He shook his head. "Sheesh. I don't know _how_ Chris puts up with you guys. But I _do_ know that I did a killer job of hosting today, and I'll see you soon when some show picks _me_ up as their host! Goodnight, everybody!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Andy French: Boris Badenov  
Ruby Gloom: Boris Badenov  
Steve: Boris Badenov  
Wendy Corduroy: Boris Badenov  
Aunt Grandma: Boris Badenov  
Boris Badenov: Andy French

Final tally of votes cast:

Boris Badenov: 5  
Andy French: 1


	32. The Cadet

**Enter...  
STEVE**

A horn blares through the morning air and I snap awake. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings, but I figure it out pretty fast. It's dawn and they're playing _Reville_ , which can only mean that it's time for another challenge. Andy and I look at each other blearily and then stumble outside, where we can hear Wendy complaining about how early it is.

"Ten-hut!" a commanding voice says. "Stand at attention, soldiers!"

I straighten my back and try to blink some of the sleepies out of my eyes. Although there's not much light to see by, I can tell that whoever's standing in front of us definitely isn't Chris. The shoulders are too broad, the muscles too developed, and the stance too formal.

"Okay, cadets, I don't know you and you don't know me, so allow me to introduce myself," the man says. "My name is Brick. You may know me from _Revenge of the Island_ , where I finished in ninth place. I am currently a military cadet, and when I was given the opportunity to challenge you all, I decided that it would be good for all of you to get a taste of army life. So that's exactly what we're doing today! You have fifteen minutes to grab a shower, get dressed, and meet back here! And if anybody's late, _all_ of you get punished! Go!"

We all take off. I rush into the cabin, grab some clothes and toiletries, and run over to the showers, where I take one of the quickest showers I've ever had. As soon as I finish showering I throw my clothes on and start running back to the cabins, brushing my teeth as I run. I'm the fourth one back, and it's not long until Aunt Grandma and Andy show up too.

"Good job, soldiers!" Brick says. "You showed you can keep a schedule. Good. Now it's time for you to start your day by cleaning the latrines!"

We all start to complain, but Brick holds up a hand to silence us.

"Now, I understand that maybe cleaning the latrines isn't the most glamorous job, or the most fun job," Brick says. "Believe me, I've done it too. But clean latrines are a necessary part of any camp, not just to prevent the spread of disease, but to promote a happy, healthy lifestyle. And from what I remember about the Wawanakwa latrines, they do anything _but_ promote a healthy lifestyle! Now who's ready to clean!"

None of us respond affirmatively. Brick rolls his eyes.

"Okay, who's ready to do five hundred push-ups instead of cleaning the latrines?" he asks.

Wendy and Aunt Grandma both look like they're considering it, but the rest of us are ready to clean the bathroom. I know that this is going to stink. It's the Wawanakwa bathrooms. But I also know that there's no way I can do all those push-ups.

* * *

Cleaning the bathrooms wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong, it's still pretty horrible. But it's nowhere near the worst thing I've ever done. Hell, it's not even the worst thing I've ever cleaned!

Yeah, working with Dr. Weird will do a number on your perspective. But he's had a bunch of lab accidents that were a lot worse, and guess who ended up having to do the cleanup? Me. So the Wawanakwa bathrooms weren't that hard to take care of, especially with all of us pitching in, and we were done after about half an hour.

"Good job, troops!" Brick says. "Now it's time to get that blood pumping! Five laps, from the latrines to the dock to the cabins and back to the latrines! Go! Go! Go!"

Great. More physical activity.

I get running along with everybody else. I'm not the slowest–that would be Ruby, who is almost walking the laps. Still, I'm the slowest person who's actually trying to run, and by the time I complete the first lap my lungs are burning. From then on it just gets worse, and my legs turn to pudding well before I get to the dock the fourth time. I have to keep pushing, though, and I just keep running.

And I keep running.

When I finally get back to the latrines for the fifth time, I have no energy left. So I do the only thing I can. I collapse on the ground by the latrines.

It feels like I've just laid down when Ruby finishes up her fifth lap.

"Okay, cadets!" Brick says. "I want you to line up, two-by-three, let's go, let's go!"

I push myself to my feet with a groan. Everybody else is already lined up, and I take the only open spot: in front of Wendy and next to Boris.

"Now that you're warmed up, two hundred jumping jacks!" Brick says. "No complaining, let's go!"

Is he trying to kill me? I get the sense he's trying to kill me.

I follow his movements the best I can even though every part of my body just wants to give up. After what feels like an eternity but is probably closer to three minutes, we finally finish the jumping jacks.

"Good! Now drop and give me fifty!"

Push-ups? There's no way I can do fifty push-ups. I doubt I can even do ten!

I get down on the ground and start trying to do push-ups even though my body is screaming at me to stop. I manage to make it through five before everything starts breaking down.

"C'mon, soldier!" Brick barks at me. "You don't want to let your squad down, do you? Go! Go! Go! C'mon, keep pushing! Keep doing it!"

I manage to make it all the way to twelve push-ups before I just completely collapse.

"Okay, if that's all you have, that's all you have," Brick says, sounding disappointed. "Twenty sit-ups! Everybody! C'mon, let's go!"

I roll over and start doing sit-ups. Somehow, I manage to finish them.

"Good job, recruits!" Brick says to us. "Good work out there warming up for today! Now I'm gonna give you an hour for breakfast, and then I want you all to meet me by the cabins!"

"Wait," Andy says, sounding irritated and exhausted. "Are you telling me this _wasn't_ part of our challenge?"

"Of course not!" Brick says. "This was just a taste of what you'll need to do to complete today's challenge. Some calisthenics, some early work–you know, to get you warmed up before the day _really_ begins. Now grab some food, and I'll see you by the cabins!"

* * *

I don't taste Chef's food as I eat it. That makes today's breakfast one of the better ones I've had here. So I take advantage of it by scarfing down as much food as I can, hoping that it would provide enough energy for me to survive today's challenge.

After breakfast, I walk over to the cabins along with everybody else. That has more to do with us being in a time crunch than anything else. When we arrive, we find Brick already waiting for us with a bunch of crates behind him.

"Troops," he says, "today we're going to be playing a war game. Out there in the woods is a fortress. You will be split into two teams. Your objective is to capture the fortress, and raise your flag over it. Whichever team has its' flag raised at the end of the game will be the winning team. To help with the fighting, every one of you will get a paintball rifle and one of these special vests." He holds up a rifle and a vest. "These vests have sensors in them that will gauge the approximate amount of damage a similar shot would do in real life were it a real bullet. If anybody takes too much damage, their vest will turn red and they will be out of the game. If anybody removes their vest, they will be out of the game. Any questions?"

I shake my head. Everybody else shakes their head too.

"Good," Brick says. "I'm going to put you on two teams: green team and brown team. Steve, you're on green team. Ruby, you're on brown team. Wendy, green. Boris, brown. Andy, green. Boris, brown. Green team, you get these guns." He gestures to a crate. "They shoot yellow paintballs. You three will also have to raise the yellow flag that is sitting in the fortress. Brown team, you get these guns." He gestures to another crate. "They shoot purple paintballs. You will raise the purple flag. Now, each of you gets one of these vests!" He drops the gun and vest he's holding and pulls out a vest from each of two different crates. "Green team, you get the green vests. Brown team, you get the brown vests. Now before we begin, does _anybody_ have _any_ questions?"

All of this is pretty straightforward. I'd be shocked if anybody didn't understand it.

"Okay then," Brick says. "I'm going to distribute the vests and guns now, and then I'll take each team to its' starting point. You can use that time to work out a strategy, but you are not allowed to start until I give the signal. If anybody leaves their starting area before I give the signal, their entire team will be disqualified. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I say. Everybody else also agrees.

"Good," Brick says. He pulls out a bunch of vests and hands them out, and then proceeds to give each of us a paintball gun. After he does this, he hands us all clear goggles and makes sure we strap them on tightly before rounding up the brown team and taking them off into the woods. As soon as they're out of sight, Wendy turns to me and Andy with fire in her eyes.

"Okay, guys," she says, "let's figure out what we're gonna do to win this thing."

I clear my throat. "Well, uh, I dunno that we can. I'm not exactly, um, the most physically gifted person."

"Don't worry," Andy says. "I've played some shooters with my little brother. I'm sure I can come up with a strategy."

Wendy looks at him uncertainly. "Video games? You really think that's a substitute for experience?"

"Do you routinely run around the woods trying to avoid getting killed?" Andy asks.

Wendy opens her mouth to reply but quickly shuts it again. "Fine. What's your brilliant plan?"

"I take the lead," Andy says. "You take the rear in case of a sneak attack or something. Steve stays between us and keeps an eye open. If we run into trouble, we open fire while Steve keeps an eye out for somebody else sneaking up on us."

"That's a pretty good plan," I say. "I don't know how that wouldn't work."

Wendy opens her mouth to say something but swallows her words and tries again. "Fine. We'll do that. But you guys better take this seriously."

"Yeah, like we want to get shot," Andy says sarcastically. "Trust me, it'll be fine."

* * *

We're in position fifteen minutes later. It seems that Brick took the brown team to one side of the woods and us to the other. He's even marked out a large X on the ground for us to stand on.

"You're five hundred yards from the fortress," he tells us. "Now I'm going to get into my position so I can watch the battle, okay? Don't go until I give the signal."

"What is the signal, anyway?" Wendy asks.

"Me telling everyone that they can start," he says. "Trust me, you'll know when you hear it. Got it?"

We all agree that we understand.

"Good," Brick said. "Just hold on a few minutes."

A few minutes later, Brick says over the loudspeakers, "Okay, it's time for the war games to begin!"

We start hiking forward through the woods. Nothing much happens as we walk except for Andy swinging the barrel of his rifle around to aim at imaginary opponents.

"Okay, Andy, can you focus?" Wendy finally asks. Secretly, I agree with her.

"What, you think somebody's going to snipe me?" Andy asks.

"Yes," Wendy says.

"Okay then," Andy says. "Let's make a bet. Nobody will snipe me if I stand still for fifteen seconds."

Andy stops where he is and just stands there, arms at his sides. We look at him like he's nuts. Wendy scrambles behind a tree.

"Andy!" she hisses. "Are you nuts?"

"How long has it been?" Andy asks.

"That's–"

"How long has it been?" he asks again. "Five seconds? Ten?"

"It's been about fifteen seconds," I say. There's no way he's moving until he wins the bet.

Andy smirks at Wendy. "See? Told you I wouldn't get shot."

"Fine, you were right, now let's move!" Wendy says urgently.

Andy rolls his eyes. "Fine."

We start walking again. After we go about ten yards, Andy gets shot in the middle of his chest and looks down, shocked, as his vest slowly turns red.

"Andy is out of the competition!" Brick announces. "Well played, brown team!"

Again, Wendy scrambles behind a tree and signals for me to do the same. I start to follow her lead, but before I can reach cover I get shot a couple of times as well. I look down at my vest and see that it's still green. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Any more bright ideas, genius?" Wendy says to me in a whispered shout.

"Do you have any?" I hiss back at her.

"I thought you two were handling all the bright ideas!" she whispers back.

"Well apparently no plan survives first contact with the enemy!" I hiss.

"Uh, guys? Kinda lying here dead," Andy says. "So, uh–"

"Shut up!" Wendy snarls. "Steve, are you going to be less than useless?"

My brow furrows. "Is that possible?"

Wendy scowls. "You know what? Fuck both of you."

Wendy scurries up her tree. I frown. So much for sticking together and not leaving anybody behind. Now I have to figure out how to get to the fortress and raise the flag by myself.

I step out from behind the tree and immediately get pelted with paintballs.

"Steve is out too!" Brick announces. "That leaves Wendy as the only player still remaining on the green team with the brown team holding the fort."

* * *

Chef pulls up to us on an ATV a couple minutes later.

"Get in," he says gruffly.

Andy pushes himself into a sitting position. "Okay, why?"

"Because we want to get you off the field," Chef says. "Plus, you can see the rest of the action if you want."

"Really?" I ask. "How?"

Chef quirks his eyebrow. "You realize we've got cameras all over the island, right?"

"Oh yeah," I mutter, feeling stupid.

Andy shrugs. "I'm in."

I follow him onto the back of Chef's ATV, and we peel off through the woods. Soon, we come upon a tent. Inside there are six TV screens, Chris, Brick, and a few chairs. Chef grabs one of them and we follow suit.

"So who killed us, anyway?" Andy asks.

Chris munches on some popcorn. "Boris. Dude's apparently a sniper."

"Yep," Brick says. "He's one talented soldier."

"Aw, man!" Chef says. "I missed the part where angry girl crept through the trees? Man, I blame you for that, telling me to go out and get these guys so they couldn't interfere."

"Sorry," Brick says. "I just wanted to make sure it was fair for everyone."

"And now she's near the fort and I don't know how she got there," Chef says grumpily. "Thanks a lot."

"She jumped from tree to tree like some sort of squirrel," Chris says, sounding annoyed. "Now would you shut up and watch the show? Something's about to happen and I don't want to miss it!"

Chris isn't wrong. Wendy somehow crept close to the fortress and had actually gone past it, at least if the direction Aunt Grandma and Boris are looking is any clue. They were both staring in the same direction, rifles at the ready, although Aunt Grandma is looking out the door of the fort and Boris is standing on top and constantly checking around him for any signs of movement.

Wendy readies her rifle and then fires several bullets into Boris's back before leaping into the fort. Boris's vest turns red.

"We've got intruders!" Boris yells.

Brick taps a button on his microphone. "Boris is out of the game."

Wendy lands on the ground inside the fort just as Aunt Grandma spins around and takes a step inside. She fires at Aunt Grandma several times. The first shot hits, but Aunt Grandma manages to dodge the other shots and begins firing back. Wendy takes a couple of hits before moving again, shooting at Aunt Grandma as well and forcing Aunt Grandma to stop shooting and dodge the attacks. When Aunt Grandma regains her balance, she fires at Wendy, but Wendy dives to the ground and then fires up at Aunt Grandma. The shot slams into her and her vest turns red.

"Aunt Grandma is out!" Brick announces.

Wendy grins and begins pushing herself off the ground when her eyes widen as she sees a rifle barrel in her face. Slowly, she eases herself into sitting position. The barrel of the gun stays aimed at the center of her forehead.

"You know, Ruby, if you want to go home you can make it happen right now," Wendy says, sounding a lot more calm than I would be under the same circumstances.

"What do you mean?" Ruby asks. She sounds uncomfortable.

"All you have to do is lower the gun and let me shoot you," Wendy says calmly. "Your team loses, you're on the chopping block, and you go home tonight. It's that easy."

Bullshit. Boris is going home if they lose. Wendy's just trying to save herself.

"You mean throw the game?" Ruby asks. She looks surprised.

"Why not?" Wendy asks. "You've done it before when you were the only one who had something to lose. This way, everybody gets what they want."

"Aunt Grandma doesn't get what she wants," Ruby says. "She wants to win."

"She's also out of the challenge right now," Wendy says. "And I can tell you don't want to shoot me."

Ruby wavers. "What do you mean?"

"You don't want to shoot me," Wendy says. "It's pretty obvious or else you would have done it already."

Ruby sighs. "Okay, fine. Maybe I don't want to shoot you. But I'm not going to throw the game and let my team down. That's just not how I do things. I'm a team player. Maybe I want to go home, but Boris and Aunt Grandma want to win, and their happiness is more important." She sighs again. "Sorry."

Ruby slowly lowers the rifle so that it's pointing at the middle of Wendy's chest and pulls the trigger.

Just before the gun fires, Wendy rolls out of the way and aims her gun at Ruby. She fires repeatedly, and Ruby's vest turns red.

"Ruby is out!" Brick declares. "All that the green team has to do to win is raise their flag!"

Wendy walks over to the corner, picks up the yellow flag, and walks back over to the flagpole. She lowers the purple flag and replaces it with the yellow flag, then sends the yellow flag flying over the fortress.

"The green team wins!" Brick announces. "Everybody, meet me back at the cabins in fifteen minutes so we can discuss today's exercise."

I hope that isn't code for more push-ups.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we're all lined up between the cabins. Brick stands in front of us.

"Alright, everybody," he says, "I believe it's time that I told you that I get to choose who to eliminate today."

Boris, Aunt Grandma, and Ruby gasp.

"Now I want to make one thing clear," Brick says. "I don't believe that it's right for you to leave without having some idea of what you did right and what you did wrong, so that you can hold your head high or hang your head low as necessary. I believe that all of you are valuable people in your own right, and you should be proud to have served with each other. However, one of you will be going home. I do not regard this as an enjoyable prospect, but merely as a necessary one. To that end, I am going to start my performance reviews with the brown team."

He walks over to Ruby. "Ruby. On this day, you performed very well. You started the game by bringing your team closer together and getting them to agree to work with each other, and followed this up by making sure that you three truly worked together. You were masterful at making teamwork a central focus, and that was responsible for much of your success in the early going. Furthermore, when you were given an opportunity to give up on your team, you chose not to, even though doing so might have been in your best interest. The only possible blemish on your record is your choice to show mercy to Wendy. In that instance, it would have been more prudent to ensure your team won, even if your teammates had already been lost. Despite this, the fault of mercy is not a large fault at all, and I respect you for your work today, soldier."

Brick and Ruby salute each other. Brick moves on to Aunt Grandma.

"Aunt Grandma. While Ruby was the heart of your team, you were certainly the brains. You were willing to work together with everybody to maximize your strengths, which meant that you were the main lookout while Boris utilized his sniping skills. Furthermore, you drew up a tactical battle plan that made sure that everybody was able to succeed. You were indispensable to your team's success, and I salute you."

Brick and Aunt Grandma salute each other. Brick moves on to Boris.

"Boris, while you didn't come up with the battle plan or act to bring everyone together, you were in many ways the most important part of the brown team, as your sniping took out two-thirds of the other team. You worked well with your team and did your best to ensure victory. Soldier, I salute you."

Brick and Boris exchange salutes. He moves on to Andy and frowns.

"Andy, I have to say, you did not perform well today. Your initial battle plan was not well thought out, and you compounded this mistake by treating this as a game instead of a serious exercise."

"But you said it was a game," Andy complains.

"Yes, but a serious one," Brick says, still frowning. "Not only did you not take it seriously, but your refusal to do so led to your death. Had you attempted this in the field, we would not be speaking with each other right now. Because you'd be dead. All in all, your performance today was decidedly amateurish, and had your team lost, I would be fingering you as the main culprit."

Brick doesn't salute as he moves on to me. I look into his eyes as he stands in front of me.

"Steve, by your own admission, you are the weakest physical specimen in this group. From what I've seen today, that is absolutely the truth. Despite this, you were the member of your team that disappointed me the least. Even though I am inclined to think you wouldn't have made it out of basic training, you were the member of your group who did best at sticking to the goal of the exercise, and for that, I reluctantly salute you."

We exchange salutes, and Brick moves on to Wendy. Before he can speak, Wendy starts talking.

"What do you mean, _he_ did the best?" she complains. "In case you didn't notice, we won, because I went out and won it for us! Are you seriously telling me that you think _Steve_ performed better than me?"

Brick sighs. "Wendy, you did perform admirably. It was smart of you to decide to forgo the ground for the trees, and your movement through the trees was incredibly stealthy. Similarly, your decision to attack from the rear was very intelligent, as it allowed you take out at least Boris easily. Inside, your shooting and dodging was well executed, and was the main reason that your team won the wargame, aside from Ruby's decision to be merciful." As Brick spoke, Wendy's frown slowly turned into a smile. "However, in doing so, _you left your team behind_. Not only was that reprehensible in and of itself, it led directly to Steve's death. Furthermore, your goading of Andy led to his death. In other words, you were at least partially responsible for the deaths of the rest of your team, and you left them behind in order to seek glory for yourself. That type of conduct is completely unacceptable, and I just want you to know that I am seriously considering booting you off the island right now. I would do so were it not for the fact that I need one question answered first."

Brick takes a deep breath and walks over to Ruby. Behind him, Wendy is shivering.

"Ruby. Do you sincerely want to go home?"

"I do," she says.

"In that case, it is my pleasure to present you with an honorable discharge, soldier!" Brick says, proudly saluting. "As of right now, you are no longer competing, but you have done your duty and can proudly return to civilian life. Congratulations, soldier!"

Brick and Ruby salute each other. Tears gather at the corner of Ruby's eyes.

"Now let's get you home," Brick says.

Brick reaches out, takes Ruby's hand, and escorts her to the dock.


	33. The Multiple Personality Disorder

**Enter...  
BORIS BADENOV**

I'm safe, Ruby's gone, five people left, two of them hate me. That's how things stand at the moment, and I can't say I'm happy about it.

Nobody was paying much attention to me, so I just slunk away from everybody so I could think about what to do now. When Wendy had taken her People's Commissar's 100–perhaps not literally, but then perhaps very literally, since I don't know what else could explain that sudden burst of courage–I thought we were done, especially when Ruby was late to pull the trigger. But then, when it turned out that Brick was deciding who would go home, I felt more hopeful, and when he told off everybody on the other side I thought that it might be possible that one of them would go home. For a fleeting moment, I thought that maybe Andy would be off the island and I could focus on playing for myself, and even after that when I thought that Wendy would be the one to go I still felt hopeful because that would get rid of one of the two people on this island who want to get rid of me.

And then the would-be soldier decided to send Ruby home instead, because of course he did. Not that I blame Ruby for taking him up on his offer. She's wanted to go home for a long time now, but nobody else was willing to comply. So I'm not particularly upset that she decided to go home. I'm just upset that it was her instead of Andy or Wendy.

I know it's selfish. I'm a selfish person. And right then, I was a selfish person with nothing to do except try to find a private place to think. So I lifted my arm and smelled at my sleeve. Yep. All that hard work had definitely left me smelling worse than I should.

So I decided to take a shower. And as the water poured down on me, I realized that I was not in a good situation, to say the least. Wendy and Andy both dislike me, which gives them two votes out of five, and if Steve and Andy were allied, as I suspected they were, that would be three votes–a clear majority. Which meant that I had to find a way to change one of those votes.

* * *

 **Enter...  
STEVE**

I'm not having a good day. I'd say it's been a rollercoaster so far, but it's more of a trainwreck.

So just in case you don't know what happened, Corporal Military came to camp. The first thing he did was force us to clean the bathrooms. Pretty bad, but not horrible. Then he made us all do a bunch of exercise, and if you didn't know, I'm not the best physical specimen you can find. I'm smart, not strong. And apparently, that's a drawback for this guy. Or at least it was today since he made us do a bunch of exercise. Finally, he split us up into two teams for a paintball war, and of course I go down early on. Then Wendy manages to win the game for our team, but apparently that's not good enough because she left me and Andy behind to die, nevermind that Andy was already shot and I wasn't going to be any help anyway. And then, because apparently being in the military means you have to be a certifiable idiot, he decides that it's time for Ruby to go home, and for some reason she goes along with it. Which brings us to now. I'm lying on my bed, trying to get some sleep after an exhausting and frankly horrible day, but even that's not happening because Andy got the same idea and he's snoring very loudly.

Since I'm not getting any sleep and probably won't sleep soon, I should put my brain to good use and figure out who to get rid of now that Ruby's gone. When she was still here, Boris was the obvious target–I mean, even I can tell that Wendy's mad at him, and Andy's mentioned several times that Boris was mad because apparently he helped Nazz play him. But now that's not such a good idea.

Think about it. This is a mostly physical game, and the two most physically talented people left are Aunt Grandma and Wendy. If Boris goes, that basically means it's two strong players against two weak players. I'm not going to pretend I don't have to scrape and fight for every inch on this show. I do. I just don't want it to get harder.

Which means that I have to get rid of one of them. Personally, I'm in favor of it being Aunt Grandma, because she's just such a massive bitch–hey, you try spending time on the same team with her and come to a different conclusion. But I don't know how to make that work. Andy doesn't have any beef with her, Boris wouldn't want to give up one of the few people who doesn't want to vote him off right now, and Wendy–well, I think she's still holding a grudge against Boris, although I can't really be sure. So I guess the numbers don't really make that much sense. But Wendy's an even trickier target. She might logically have more enemies, but I think the producers actually like her, and anybody the producers like is going to stay on longer than they should. Just look at Heather. You top that off with the fact that even though she seems like more of a jerk since she's come back she's still more likable than Aunt Grandma–probably–maybe–okay it's a toss-up–and there's a problem.

Still, one of them has to go. So Aunt Grandma has to be target number one, unless a golden opportunity to get rid of Wendy pops up.

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

Camp Wawanakwa doesn't look too bad if you're not actually in it. Which I was, technically, but being on the roof of the mess hall made it seem much farther away than you'd think twenty feet of height could get you.

So there I was, staring out past the cabins and the dock to the water. Even though I knew it wasn't supposed to look that great since the concept of the show is basically putting teens in a crappy summer camp, and even though I knew dangers lurked beneath the calm waters of the lake, the place was still beautiful without anybody around. In a rundown summer camp kind of way, but still beautiful.

Besides, once you've had to deal with McGucket's monsters randomly popping out of the lake, sharks and octopuses don't really seem that scary.

I sighed and instinctively put my hand down where a can usually is and frowned as I remembered that I wasn't at the Mystery Shack. Again. Sure, I guess I could've tried to raid the fridge in the kitchen. I could have also tried to fight the Multi-Bear. I suspect that would be less dangerous.

Seriously, I'm not that crazy or that stupid. Although if I was, I still probably wouldn't try to take something from Chef's kitchen. I mean, I saw the show before I came here, although a lot of the other people here apparently didn't.

I looked out on the lake again and thought about everything that had happened. I came here, made some friends, got betrayed by them, got onto the sequel, got betrayed again, got brought back on, and now I don't trust anybody and I'm farther along than I got before. And I guess I should probably question why this is, whether it's because I've given up on trying to be friendly or whether it's just because I got brought back after the merge, butI don't really care. All that's over with now. I'm in the final five with a good chance of winning, and I just have to remember one important thing:

From now on, I trust no one.

* * *

 **Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

I wake up around dinnertime. At least, that's what my watch says. And after today, I could definitely go for a bite, even if it's Chef's shitty cooking.

I pull my body off of the mattress and instantly regret it. My body was _not_ built for army life. It was built for sitting on a couch and watching TV. Maybe eating some Bugles. Also getting drunk. Definitely getting drunk. But it wasn't built for having some wacko yell at me to do push-ups.

I get up eventually. And once I do I head for the cafeteria and get some grub. Tonight it's tacos, for some reason. The fact that I can identify what it's supposed to be is an achievement on its own, because usually Chef's cooking is some form of colored mush with inexplicably hard chunks. Which might be a good name for a ska band, but I don't play the trumpet.

I sit down at a table and take a bite. Of course. The taco shells are stale, the filling is rotten or very close to it, and the whole thing has a texture I can't describe apart from saying that it feels wrong.

But apart from that it's not bad.

That was sarcasm, if you didn't get it.

Still, I need something to eat, so I try to force myself to ignore the taste. And thanks to having been stuck on this island for...eleven days now, apparently, although it feels much longer, that's actually not that hard to do. I mean, ignoring how things taste is pretty much the only way to survive any meal here. And one of the best ways to do that is to find something to take your mind off of it.

So I look around the room and see that everyone else is silently eating dinner, except for Steve, who has passed out in his food. I should probably go wake him up, but then again, the guy needs his sleep. More than I do, even, probably. And also, I don't want to get up while my body feels like this.

Instead I just look at everybody else here and kinda think about them. Not in a bad way, but to get a read on who they are, what they're like. You know, a character study–I think that's what my nerdy little brother would call it. And I start with Wendy. She's not a bad person, or at least she wasn't the first time around. She actually seemed to be pretty nice, with a wicked sense of humor. But ever since she got brought back, she's...she's changed. She's a lot meaner now. I don't know why. But she might just be the scariest person on this island, which is saying something given who else is here. Like Aunt Grandma. Maybe she looks like fun from a distance, but up close you know you don't want anything to do with her. The woman just seems off, you know? Like, she doesn't really say much that's out of the ordinary, but it's the way she says things, and really, it's the things she _doesn't_ say. You talk to her, you just get this kind of sense of _rottenness_. Not that _she's_ rotten, but that she's got something rotten inside. And it's definitely scary. Not as scary as Boris, but that might just be because I know that Boris wants to get rid of me, and you can say a lot of things about the guy but he seems like he can be legitimately dangerous. It's hidden, but the guy sniped me _after_ I stopped being an easy target. Which means he had his eye on me for a while. He could have shot me at any time, but he chose to wait until I wasn't tempting him and then he pulled the trigger. He was toying with me.

Or maybe I'm just paranoid.

No, no, I'm not paranoid. I'm exactly as noid as I should be.

That makes no sense but fuck it, I'm right.

At least Steve's on my side. I mean, sure the guy's a little off, what with how he never really seems to be in the moment, but when you think about it, is anybody in this place really normal? Boris is a psycho who cheerfully admits he lies all the time, Wendy looks and acts cool...well she did, but anyway she's also got super strength and amazing tree-climbing abilities, and she's taller than the average teenage girl. And Aunt Grandma...yeah. So Steve being a little bit out of it is okay by me, especially since I know that I can trust the guy. At least he's not trying to set up some secret alliance to rig the game. Well, maybe he is, but I don't think he'll stab me in the back.

Okay, now I'm worried.

* * *

 **Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

 _i open my eyes. he's there as usual._

 _"good morning!"_

 _what is it tonight, is it a good dream or a bad dream?_

 _"so uh, priscilla, whatcha got there?"_

 _i look down. i'm holding a knife in my left hand._

 _it's gonna be a good dream._

 _"priscilla that's kind of a creepy smile"_

 _"whoa priscilla you're a bit close"_

 _"uh maybe lower the knife please?"_

 _"please?"_

 _i slash at him and he jerks back and runs. he's pretty fast for a fat man._

 _i flick my tongue out and lick the tip of the knife. soon, very soon, it will be stained with that sweetest treat. his blood._

 _i give chase and catch up to him very quickly. i lash out again._

 _"Hey, Aunt Grandma?"_

 _the voice throws me off and i just barely miss. i growl and look for the source of the voice._

 _"Hey."_

 _she's standing behind me. black hair with purple highlights, purple lipstick, and a skull-and-crossbones t-shirt._

 _"So I just wanted to talk to you about–"_

 _"YOU MADE ME MISS!"_

 _i slash the knife at her. she jerks back._

 _"Whoa, wait! I mean, maybe I came at a bad time, but–"_

 _i slash at her again and barely miss._

 _"Seriously, wait a minute! I need to tell you about–"_

 _i barely miss again. I stab at her and manage to nick her stomach. she squeals from the pain._

 _"Oh, FUCK this!"_

 _i stab at her again but she disappears mid-swing. i look around angrily, but she's gone. the fat man is gone too._

* * *

 **Enter...  
TRIANA ORPHEUS**

My dad looked at me with hopeful eyes as I snapped out of the dream trance.

"So, pumpkin...how'd it go?" he asked hopefully.

"How do you fucking think?" I snapped. "She tried to stab me!"

He looks down and notices the cut on my stomach. His eyes widen.

"Oh my. We'll need to bandage that immediately! Oh, I swear, if she hurt you seriously, I'll–"

"Dad!" I said. It's strange how _he's_ now more pissed than I am at almost being stabbed. "It's okay, she did it in a dream."

"Most people don't have dreams that involve them stabbing someone," he pointed out as he walked over to a nearby cupboard.

"Yeah, well, apparently she does," I said. "So I guess we can cross her off the list."

"Fine," he said. He pulled some antiseptic, some cotton swabs, and some bandages out of the cupboard and turned back to me. "Now let me take care of that wound."

He began applying the antiseptic to my cut and I hissed in pain.

"So how many does that leave?" he asked.

"I dunno, two?" I guessed. "I mean, Ruby doesn't pay any attention to me when I'm in her dreams, Steve is a nightmare factory, Wendy thought I was some guy named Bill trying to trick her, and now this Aunt Grandma person tries to stab me."

My dad nodded. "Right. So who's left?"

"Either Andy, this total slacker, or Boris, who may or may not be a Russian spy," I told him.

My dad inhaled sharply through his teeth. "I don't like the sounds of either of them. You–do know how to–be safe–"

"Yes, dad, I know how to use a condom," I said.

"That is _not_ what I meant!" he said angrily. "I mean, good, pumpkin, but–"

I chuckle. "I'm just messing with you, dad. Trust me. I got away from a woman trying to stab me without too much damage."

"Yes, you're correct," he said. "It's becoming more of a habit with you as you grow into your womanhood. Still, I worry."

After a few seconds, I speak up again.

"I think I'll try the Russian next."


	34. The Evil Twin

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

So there I was, trying to choke down breakfast, when this blonde girl in a red cheerleader's outfit complete with thigh-high boots walked in. Of course, I'd seen the show before, so I took a look at her right cheek and there, beaming at us, was a black mole. I suppose I should call it a beauty mark, but I knew what it meant, so fuck that. It's a mole, because this bitch doesn't deserve to have anything beautiful associated with her.

In case you can't tell, our challenge giver was going to be Amy. Amy, the bitch who likes to bully her twin sister. Obviously, today's challenge was going to suck.

She looked at us and stuck her nose up. "Huh. Figures Chris couldn't find anything but losers to replace us. He's lucky I agreed to come back and give out a challenge."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Andy asked innocently. I'm not an idiot. I could tell he was just needling her. But frankly, she deserves it.

"Who am I?" she asked, surprised. "Who am I? What, did you not watch the show? I'm Amy, the most popular contestant ever!"

"Uh, actually, you're probably not even in the top forty," Steve interjected.

"Yeah," I said. "And your sister is more popular than you."

"What?" she said, surprised. "I mean, WHAT? THAT FREAK? No WAY is Sammy more popular than me! I'm Amy!"

"Yeah, see, people think you're a bully and a jerk," Steve said. "And they want to see you put in your place, hopefully by your sister."

"No–no they don't!" Amy said. "They want to see the inferior twin bow to the superior twin. Duh! I came out first, and Sammy always comes in last! That's how it is!"

"I thought you called her Samey," Steve said.

"She–yes I do! Sammy just slipped out for some reason! Stupid Samey must've put it there!" Amy said. "Now are you idiots going to keep being stupid, or are you going to listen to me and actually do the challenge for once?"

"If the challenge is to make fun of you, I gotta say, it's not much of a challenge," Andy said. "I bet even Aunt Grandma could pull it off."

Aunt Grandma looked up and smirked. "If you have a twin, I hope she at least got the brains, because as far as I can tell you didn't get the looks."

"We're–we're twins!" Amy said angrily.

"So she's the smart one, and you're the ugly one," Aunt Grandma said. "Got it. Have you tried wearing a bag over your face?"

"Nah, that wouldn't work," I said. "A bag wouldn't cover up her personality."

"True," Aunt Grandma said. "It's not like her looks are the ugliest thing about her."

"Guys, be fair," Andy said. "If she wore a bag over her head, people might get close enough to smell her toxic breath."

"Yes, that would be horrible," Boris said. "We wouldn't want anybody to die from poison inhalation."

"Do we really need to take shots at her dating life?" Steve asked. "It's gotta be pretty hard out there, trying to find a guy who's deaf, blind, _and_ stupid with no sense of smell. These seem like pretty low blows."

Amy stamped her foot angrily. "ALL OF YOU STOP LAUGHING AT ME!"

On cue, we all stared at her for a few seconds and then burst into guffaws. She stamped her feet angrily again.

"Listen, idiots!" she yelled. "I'm giving you a challenge, and it is not to make fun of me for being attractiver, prettier, smarter, beautifuler, and popularer than any of you! Now shut up and listen to me while I tell you what to do!"

Slowly, the chuckles died down. We all looked at her as she waited until she had our full attention.

"Good," she said angrily. "My inferior sister is currently tied up somewhere in the woods. Your job is to find her...and _hurt_ her. Any way you can think of, so long as it hurts. The one who hurts her the most...gets a special reward. Now go. Hurt. Samey."

We all looked at her in stunned silence.

"Okay, are you nuts?" Andy asked. "I mean, my little brother's a douchebag, but I'm not going to send complete strangers to whale on him. Hell, I'd defend him from complete strangers trying to whale on him!"

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, sure, my brothers and I get into prank wars and stuff all the time, but seriously? You want us to torture your sister?"

Aunt Grandma tapped her chin. "What's the special reward?"

We looked at her, astounded.

"What?" she said defensively. "We should at least know what it is before telling her no!"

"You know, it's probably not anything good," Steve pointed out. "Would Chris really pass up a chance to mess with us?"

"Yeah," I said. "No way are we doing her dirty work."

Amy stomped her foot again. "I'M NOT CHRIS! And it's a prize challenge, anyway, so nobody will get eliminated!"

Chris groaned. "You weren't supposed to tell them that."

We all turned to look at him.

"How long have you been here?" Steve asked.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Chris said. " _Everybody_ notices when I enter a room."

"No, they don't," I said.

"Uh, yeah, they do," Chris said.

"No, we don't," Andy said.

"Th–"

"We don't," Aunt Grandma said harshly. "Now can we move on already?"

Chris scowled. "Fine. I promise you, on my mother's grave, nobody will be eliminated tonight."

"That'd be worth more if we didn't already know that you lie," I said.

"Yeah, all the time," Aunt Grandma added.

"More than me, even, and that's quite an accomplishment!" Boris said.

"And your mother's still alive," Steve said.

" _I_ promise nobody will be eliminated!" Amy said.

"Yeah, no offense, but your credibility's almost as bad as his," I said.

"Oh really?" she asked smugly. "When have I ever lied?"

"You took credit for everything your sister did and pretended that you were the victim instead of her bully," Steve said.

Amy blanched. "I _am_ a victim! I have to put up with–with–with Sammy's uselessness all the time!"

"Yeah, that must be torture," Andy said sarcastically. "Having to put up with a younger sibling that everybody agrees is smarter than you? Wow, I can't imagine how you manage to go a day without smothering her in her sleep."

"I know, right?" Amy said. "I'm a total saint."

"In Pottsylvania, you certainly would be," Boris said.

Chris stood up. "Okay, you know what? As much fun as it is to make fun of Amy–"

"Hey!" she protested.

"–an entire episode of just outright ripping on her wouldn't make very good TV," Chris continued. "Not just because this is a reality show and not a roast, but also because none of you are comedians, or very interesting at all for that matter, and you're going to wind up rehashing material in about, oh, two minutes ago. So. ONE of you had better get out there, find Samey, and start torturing her, because WE NEED something to make this show interesting, and trust me, you guys sitting around and telling Amy what a complete loser she is doesn't cut it. So. GET MOVING!"

"Uh, yeah, no," Andy said. "I'm not going to go hurt somebody just because some brat has an inferiority complex."

I nodded. "I'm with you. No way am I going to hurt Samey."

Amy winced. Chris growled.

"Let me reiterate," he said. "If you don't go out there and torture Samey RIGHT THIS INSTANT, I'm going to change this challenge to one where, oh, I dunno, _I_ torture _you_."

We all looked at each other, and then stood up and bolted for the doors of the cafeteria. They slammed shut behind us. As soon as we were outside, we looked at each other. Steve was the first to speak.

"Hey, where's Andy?"

The response quickly came from inside the mess hall.

"Dude, you do know that if you don't go out and help hunt her down, you'll be eliminated, right?" Chris asked.

"Hey, I may not have many principles, and I may not stick to them, but fuck you, Chris," Andy said. "You too, Amy," he added as an afterthought.

"You know, I'm with the kid," Chef said. "This just ain't right, man."

Chris groaned. "Fine. You're still on the show, but you're not going to get the special prize."

Andy snorted. "Not like I'd want it anyway."

"Oh, and since you're not going to help torture Samey, I believe I'm going to make good on my promise," Chris said. "Chef, didn't you say you needed a pedicure?"

"You know, I do," Chef said slowly. He chortled evilly.

"Wait a minute!" Andy said frantically. "Are you serious about this?"

"Trust me, boy, my feet are just the start," Chef said evilly.

The doors flew open and Chris stepped out, Amy in tow. He scowled at us.

"What are you people still doing here?" he asked. "Get out there and find Samey! Now!"

"We will," Aunt Grandma assured him. "We just need to plot our strategy."

"What strategy?" Chris asked incredulously. "It's an island with a teenage girl tied up somewhere on it! What on earth would you possibly need to plan for? It shouldn't take long at all for you to find her!"

"You could say the same thing about a suitcase containing a million dollars, but apparently that's not how it works," Steve said.

"Please," Amy said. "There's no way Samey's worth that much."

Steve shrugged. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Amy blushed angrily. "Just–just go find her, you–you–you–"

"Wow, great comeback," Boris said sarcastically.

I shrugged. "Meh, her sister could do better."

Amy flushed more fiercely and stormed away from us. Chris shook his head, looking disappointed.

"You guys get moving, okay?" he said. "Me and Chef have a contestant to torture with disgusting demands, but that's not going to keep us amused forever."

"EW!" Andy shrieked from inside. "I'm supposed to do WHAT with those pineapples?"

Chris chuckled. "Okay, maybe it will." He put on a serious face. "But get moving already. We need something to air."

Chris turned and walked back into the cafeteria. Boris grinned at us.

"Well, I guess it's up to me to win the special prize," he said. "I _am_ a master of torture, after all."

Boris saluted us and dashed off. Steve took off after him.

"No way," Steve muttered. "No _fucking_ way."

That left me and Aunt Grandma alone together. I looked over to her.

"So what now?" I asked.

"We can't let Boris win," she said. "If he wins and it's something that's actually useful in the game, one of us is going home."

I scowled. "You can't be serious. You want to torture that poor innocent girl?"

"We don't know she's innocent!" Aunt Grandma defended herself. "And no, that's goal number two. We just have to keep her away from Boris and rough her up a little bit. That should be enough."

I grimaced. "I don't like this."

"You like ten million dollars though, right?" she prompted. Reluctantly, I nodded. "Good. Then we just have to find her. I'll take the left side, you take the right."

"Which side is which?" I asked.

She scowled. "I'll take _this_ side–" she said, pointing to it, "–and you take _that_ side." She pointed to it. "Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

Aunt Grandma charged into the woods. I followed suit at a slightly slower pace, heading into a different section. As I jogged through the woods, I kept my head on a swivel and kept my ears open for anything out of the ordinary. After a few minutes, I heard a sound: a depraved, disturbed chuckle. I turned towards the sound and heard it again. I started running towards the source of the sound and burst into a clearing. I stopped there to listen again, looking all around. It was then that I spotted her.

Samey had a gag over her mouth and was tightly tied to a chair that hung in midair from a rope. This rope was slung over a tree branch and attached to a winch. Standing next to the winch was Boris. He smiled at me.

"Ah, Wendy," he said cheerfully. "You're a little late to the party, but you know, better late than never!"

Boris kicked the winch. It spun, and the chair dropped about a foot, causing Samey's eyes to widen in fear before the rope went taut again and she hung aimlessly in midair again, dangling several feet off the ground.

"So, I just have to ask," Boris said casually. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Suggestions?" I asked.

Boris kicked the winch again, and the chair dropped another foot, causing Samey to protest inaudibly against the gag. "Yes, suggestions. You see, a good torture is like a fine meal. You can't go right to the foot press or the caged rats. No, those are main courses. You need to start off with an appetizer or two...some thumbscrews, suffocation, maybe even a little bit of...scarification, although we don't have the ashes we'd need for that." He kicked the winch again, and the chair dropped another foot, setting Samey off again. "So, what shall be our shrimp cocktail or jalapeño puffs?"

"I don't know, I–wait, what's up with her cheek?"

Samey had a beauty mark identical to Amy's underneath her right eye.

"What do you mean?" Boris asked.

"I mean, she's got a mark like Amy's under her right eye," I said.

Boris sighed. "They're identical twins, Wendy. That means they look exactly the same."

"I know the concept," I snapped. "But Amy's the one with the mole. That's how you can tell them apart. Samey doesn't have a beauty mark."

Samey reacted to this violently.

"Huh," Boris said. "That's strange. Maybe Amy just wanted to remind Samey of how inferior she is by putting that mark on her cheek."

"Yeah," I said, thinking about it. "I mean, Samey did get farther in the game by pretending to be Amy. So maybe that's a reminder that she got farther by pretending to be Amy."

Samey said something from behind her gag.

Boris snickered. "Ah, psychological torture. I love it so much."

With that, Boris kicked the winch again. This time, the rope went slack and the chair plummeted towards the ground. Its' legs shattered against the ground, and Samey's legs splayed forward. Before she could react, Boris quickly wound the winch again, and the chair lifted into the air again until Samey's feet were dangling a foot off of the ground.

Boris grinned ghoulishly. "Now that I've got your attention, we can begin."

Samey protested violently and struggled against the ropes that held her against the chair, but she was unable to move them. Boris pulled out a dagger from inside his cloak–did he always have that?–and approached her, holding his psychotic grin steady. I knew that I should do something, but I was fixed in place, trying to figure out what Boris would do next.

I didn't have to wait long. Boris ran his knife up the side of one of Samey's boots and then up her leg to her skirt. He passed it over the skirt but then brought it down so he could run it over her stomach. By now, Samey had ceased her struggles and was trying not to make any sudden movements just in case they caused the dagger to break the skin.

Boris made circles around Samey's belly button with his dagger for several seconds before he began speaking again.

"You know, I could do a much better job of this if I had an actual workspace," he said. "One with proper tools, and implements, and all kinds of special equipment. Oh, I could do so much. So very, very much. A bit of electricity here, a bit of acid there, maybe just a touch of the pliers or the screws if we need to go low-tech. After all, there's so much that can be done without access to modern technology since ancient technology works so well.

"So I guess being in the woods isn't such a drawback after all. Sure, it limits what I can do. And maybe I can't open with my usual well-placed salvo of tricks and treats. And of course, I can't test you and find out exactly what you're sensitive to. Electricity? Water? Animals? Or just the cool sharp dangerous blade? No, I can't use my entire bag of tricks on you.

"But that just means that I have to be creative. So what do you say, girl? Shall we get back to nature?"

Boris withdrew his knife. Samey's eyes were now wide and starting to fill with tears of fear, and although she wasn't struggling physically, she was screaming unintelligibly behind her gag.

"You know, there's a lot I could do with the objects here," Boris pondered. Samey's cries became more frantic. "With a stick, I could open a few veins, prod a few nerves, maybe even break a few bones. With a rock, I could gouge your eyes out, break your teeth, oh, I could do so many, many, many things. You don't need your feet for anything, do you? No, I didn't think so." As Samey screamed, Boris yanked off her boots. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to use the rock, or the stick, or even my knife." He put it back in his sleeve. "But with these hands, oh, with these hands...with these hands, I hold the fate of millions."

Boris laughed, a sick, sinister thing, and as he laughed my heart plummeted into my stomach because I knew that something very, very bad was about to happen.

"Whoa, Boris, don't be too hasty," I said. "You don't wanna, you know..."

"I don't want to what?" he asked sweetly as he turned to me. "I don't want to hurt her?"

"Not too badly, right?" I said. "I mean, even Samey doesn't deserve to be...crippled for life or whatever."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Boris said. "I know how to hurt somebody without leaving scars." If it was possible, his smile grew wider. "So how about you watch and learn from a _true_ professional."

Boris turned back to Samey and raised his hands again. Samey, who had been screaming and struggling ever since Boris had put his dagger away, fell silent and just stared at him with terror in her eyes. Boris reached out with his left hand and grabbed her left leg, pulling her foot close to him. And then, with his right hand...

He began to tickle her foot.

I repeat, he began to tickle her foot.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Is this what passes for torture in whatever weird European nation Boris comes from? Tickling somebody's foot? Although Samey doesn't seem to be enjoying it. Her laughter is frantic and scared and she's starting to cry. So maybe tickling somebody is actually effective?

Whatever. I can do better.

"Seriously, Boris?" I asked him. "I mean, seriously? Tickling her?"

Boris frowned and looked back at me but didn't stop tickling her. "What? It's an acclaimed method of torture in Pottsylvania."

"Yeah, that's because Pottsylvania is lame," I said, striding towards them.

Boris gasped angrily and stopped tickling Samey's foot. "Pottsylvania is most certainly not lame, you decadent American capitalist swine!"

"Okay, Pottsylvania isn't lame," I agreed, stopping by Samey. "It's just so unimportant that I've never heard of it."

Boris gasped again but I ignored him. I grabbed Samey's chin in my hand, pushing the cheeks together so the lips puckered awkwardly and smiled at her.

"We're gonna have some fun!" I said in my perkiest voice before punching her in the stomach.

Samey gasped in pain and would have doubled over were it not for the bonds holding her back. I stepped behind her, and before she could catch her breath, I yanked at her hair. Her body jerked back involuntarily, and Samey let out a moan of pain.

Boris snorted. "Random violence? Please, you don't even know what pressure points to hit."

"It's not random violence! I'm setting up–"

"Step aside and let Boris work, darlink."

Boris grabbed Samey's ear and pulled her down to his level. He held her there for several seconds with a grin on his face and then began to speak.

"You know, this posture is very bad for your back," Boris said. "If you stay this way for too long, it could contribute to health problems later in life. Now a few seconds of this won't have any impact, but a few minutes...a few hours..."

"Oh, bra-vo," I said sarcastically. "You're gonna scare her with back pain? She's not an old woman, in case you haven't noticed."

Boris frowned and released her ear. "You know _nothing_ about the intricacies of torture!"

"I know that subtle isn't the way to go," I retorted. I pulled on Samey's hair again, and once again her back straightened against the chair. "Now watch and learn, mister professional."

I grabbed the back of her chair and gave it a spin. Samey's eyes widened in shock as I continued to spin the chair. The rope began to bunch up as it spun around itself, and Samey began to lift off the ground, but I continued to spin the chair until it was too high and the rope was too wrapped up for me to spin it anymore. At that point, I grabbed the chair.

"Are we having fun yet?" I asked perkily.

I let the chair go, and the rope's tension did its work. Samey spun around and around and around, all the way until she was dangling a couple of feet off the ground, at which point it began to rise again as the momentum carried it on. I heard her gag, and as the chair reached the edge of its momentum and stopped, I saw that her cheeks were bulging with vomit. I grabbed the chair to stop it from spinning down again.

"Are we having fun yet?" I asked again in the same perky voice.

I spun the chair to give it a little extra momentum, and it complied, with Samey spinning down rapidly on it. Before it hit the low point, I heard her barf and winced. This was not going to be fun for her. When Samey finally stopped again, this time with very little twisting of the rope after it hit the low point, her gag was soaked in vomit and she looked like she was about to cry.

"Did we have fun?" I asked perkily.

Boris applauded. "Well done, Wendy! You surprised me there. I thought you were just going to be violent, but you managed to take it in an unexpected direction, and now look at her! She's almost crying. Well done. But believe me, you've only started to figure out how much fun it is to be bad."

I let go of the chair and stumbled back, shocked. Boris was proud of me–because I made Samey cry. Samey, an girl who had been abused all her life by her sister. And I had helped Amy abuse Samey. And for what? Another chance at ten million dollars? Because I wanted to vote off Boris?

What had I done?

While I was still standing there, shocked at how low I'd sunk, Boris stepped past me and over to the winch, where he pulled out his dagger and cut the rope. Samey fell to the ground hard, and Boris casually strode over to her, knife still at the ready.

"Stop!" somebody said loudly.

Boris and I both looked over to the source of the noise. Steve freed himself from a bush and walked into the clearing, panting heavily.

"You can't do this," he said.

"Why not?" Boris asked.

"Because–look, do you know anything about this girl?" Steve asked. "Because if you don't, you should. Her sister, Amy, the one who gave us the challenge back there, she's been abusing her all her life. Sammy, she's been tortured since she was born by her bully of an older sister, and now you guys are helping. Helping a bully just makes you bullies, no matter what the reason is. Actually, it's worse, because you guys are just her lackeys. And it's–it's not right that you guys are doing this for money, okay? You just–you shouldn't do this."

"You've got a point," Boris mused. He grinned. "But I'm evil."

Boris brought the knife down on Samey's hair and began hacking at it randomly. Samey burst into tears as her blonde locks fell on the ground around her. Suddenly, Amy rushed into the clearing.

"Okay, that's enough!" Amy declared. "She's had enough already!"

Boris took one more swipe through Samey's hair and then stopped.

"Wait a second," Steve said. "Amy would never stop anybody from bullying Sammy."

He gasped.

"You're not Amy at all!"


	35. The Good Twin

**Enter...  
STEVE**

Sammy, or The Artist Formerly Known as Amy, grins nervously and runs her fingers over her cheek, smudging her fake beauty mark.

"Well now I feel a lot better," Wendy says. Chris and Chef walk into the clearing.

"Okay, I guess the challenge is over," Chris says. "So now it's time for the big twist!"

"The person we thought was Amy is actually Samey and now the real Amy will be choosing the winner of the big prize?" Wendy guesses.

Chris frowns. "No. No, that's stupid. The _real_ twist is that _Samey_ is the one giving out the prize for Amy's challenge. So, Chef?"

Chef walks over to Amy and cuts her free from the chair. He then unties the gag, and Amy reacts to her freedom by gasping for air. I can't blame her. I gasped for air too when I was finally released by Gillman after marinating among his eggs for several hours. I can only imagine how he laid those eggs. But I don't like to.

"So, Samey, you get to choose who won today," Chris says to her. "But don't make up your mind too quickly! We want to do it tonight, at a very, very special campfire ceremony."

Sammy looks uncertain. "Thanks..."

"Are you kidding me?" Amy roars. "That–that imposter so-called sister of mine pretended to be me! _She_ was supposed to be in this chair! _She_ was supposed to be tortured! _She_ should have lost all her hair! And worse, because she's such a massive loser! I can't _believe_ you let this happen! And now she gets to choose the winner? SHE STOLE MY CHALLENGE!"

"Uh-huh," Chris says slowly. "So what am I supposed to do about it?"

"I want a new challenge, _and_ a campfire ceremony, _and_ I want Spareamy PUNISHED for DARING to TIE ME UP! AND FOR GETTING THESE FREAKS TO TORTURE ME!" Amy yells.

Chris shakes his head. "Yeah, no, you already had your challenge, remember? It just ended a few minutes ago."

"THAT DOESN'T COUNT!" Amy screams. "SHE STOLE IT FROM ME! JUST LIKE SHE STEALS EVERYTHING! NOBODY WANTS TO BE MY FRIEND BUT THEY ALL LIKE HER! MY PARENTS DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH BETTER I AM! NOBODY GIVES ME THE PROPER RESPECT, AND EVER SINCE I CAME ON THIS SHOW THEY'VE ACTED LIKE SAMEY IS SO WONDERFUL! SHE'S NOT! SHE IS THE INFERIOR TWIN! I AM BETTER THAN HER! AND NOBODY IS EVER GOING TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME! ESPECIALLY NOT YOU!"

Chris boredly examines his fingernails. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna do exactly that."

Amy lunges at Chris angrily. Before she can get within five feet of him, Chef grabs her, pulls her arms behind her back, and puts her in a chokehold so she can't break free. Chris walks up to her calmly as she struggles.

"See, here's the thing," he says. "You and Samey? Great TV, great ratings. I mean, your bickering was fantastic, and you just totally destroying her psyche was fun to watch. But the viewers? Sure, they like to watch it–but they don't like you. They like the victim. It's weird, I know, but people love the underdog. And when the underdog bites back, well, that's a ratings bonanza. So Samey bit back and got you kicked off. That worked out well for us. Much better than if you had kept her under your heel. But then this season comes along, and we're having everybody come back and do part of a show...okay, most people. But we bring back people that nobody liked, like Eva, or Staci, or you. And as soon as you get told that you're coming back, you try to get rid of Samey again, and again, and again, and then you make your challenge all about torturing your sister. It would've been hilarious, but you know what's even funnier? That the tables got turned on you and you got tortured instead of Samey. And, as a result, you actually got a lot of screentime in this episode, a lot more than Samey did."

"BUT SHE STOLE MY EPISODE!" Amy screams.

"Yeah, no, I'm gonna say that you got everything you deserve," Chris says. "Now take her away, Chef!"

Chef carries her away. Amy kicks and screams the whole way. With a grin, Chris turns back to the rest of us.

"So, like I said, big twist, Samey gives out a special prize, blah blah blah," Chris says. "Anyway, you're all free to do whatever you want until dinner. Samey's gonna be there, so feel free to work out a sales pitch to get her to pick you. Now get out of here!"

* * *

After the challenge was over, we all pretty much wandered off our separate ways. I suspect most people went off to try and figure out what they were going to do to get Sammy to like them. I didn't, though. Whatever the special prize was, I wasn't going to need it.

So far, my plan has been working like a charm. After I got booted off before the merge last season, I went back and reviewed every other season of Total Drama. I made sure to watch every season multiple times, and I noticed a few things. One of the most important things was that in the finale, one of the players was always somebody who tried to play people in some way. They formed alliances, dealt with enemies, and pushed through the game the best way they knew how.

That wasn't the most important thing. The important thing was that usually their opponent _didn't_ do that. Usually, the other person in the finale managed to slip beneath everyone's radar. They weren't considered important enough to get rid of. And then the finale was almost always a crapshoot. One minor event near the end of the game usually decided the outcome.

Think about it. Owen, Beth, Cody, Zoey, Shawn, hell, maybe even Lightning and Heather in season three, all of them managed to slip through just by going unnoticed.

Once I realized this, it was pretty obvious this was going to be my path. I'm not strong. I'm not charismatic. I'm not even all that intelligent. I mean, I'm smart, but not a genius or anything. So, since excellence wasn't going to be my path to the finale, I chose the other path. All I have to do is make sure that I'm the _least_ objectionable option, and I pretty much have a free and clear ride to the finale. And like I said before, one minor event usually decides the outcome, making the whole thing pretty much a coin toss.

50-50 odds against pretty much anybody else on this island is the best I can hope for. So of course I'll take those odds. And everything is coming up my way so far. Wendy? Boris doesn't like her, Andy knows that she's a pretty strong threat, and I wouldn't be surprised if Aunt Grandma wants her gone as soon as possible. Aunt Grandma? Everybody has probably figured out by now that she's pretty scary. Wendy should definitely know that, since they room together. Boris may be focused on getting rid of Andy, but even he has to admit that Aunt Grandma's a less favorable opponent than I am. And Andy shouldn't have a problem with getting rid of her. Boris? Wendy hates him, Andy's scared of him, and that means that he's not in a good position either. Andy? Boris hates him, and that's about all, so he's actually in the second-best position.

But first place goes to me. I don't have any enemies, I'm not a strong player, and I keep my head down. All I have to do is avoid being eliminated in a challenge without a campfire ceremony. Brick seriously screwed me with that one. But if I stay out of trouble, I have a clear path to the finale. Especially with my insurance.

Which brings us to right now, where everybody is crowding around Samey at dinner except for me and Aunt Grandma. I know why I'm not approaching Samey, because I have to avoid making any enemies. But why isn't Aunt Grandma trying to curry favor with her?

I sit down next to her. Aunt Grandma looks up at me, surprised.

"Steve," she says flatly.

"Aunt Grandma," I say.

Aunt Grandma takes a bite of her food. She chews, swallows, and stares at me.

"Why are you here?" she asks sharply.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I dunno, shouldn't you be trying to get her to give you a special prize?" she asks.

"Shouldn't you?" I ask.

She snorts. "I didn't come anywhere near the girl we were supposed to torture, and I didn't–how did Wendy put it? Oh yeah, I didn't stand up for her like you did. So why aren't you over there?"

"I didn't really do anything," I mutter. "I just thought it was wrong, is all."

"Really?" Aunt Grandma asks sarcastically. "Then why'd you bolt out of here as soon as Boris took off?"

"To try and...rescue her, I guess," I admit. "So?"

"So why are you talking to me?"

"I figured I should apologize."

This throws her for a loop. She actually puts down her for and stares at me, skepticism in her eyes.

"What for?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"Look, I admit we...weren't on the best terms when we were on the same team," I say. "Tempers got heated when it was down to just three of us, but I'm guessing that was because there was pressure on both of us. So I'm sorry that we ended up at each others' throats, but maybe we can be...I dunno, cool?"

Aunt Grandma thinks about it and nods. "Sure. We're cool."

I smile at her. Aunt Grandma returns my smile, although it's pretty obvious her smile is fake.

* * *

We all gather by the campfire after dinner. A few minutes later, Sammy walks up to the podium.

"So, I guess it's time for me to reveal what the special reward is, huh?" she says.

"Do it!" Wendy and Boris cheer.

"The special reward is immunity in the next vote," Sammy says. "No matter what happens, you can't be voted off the island. So, first of all, Andy will not be receiving immunity."

"What?" Andy asked, shocked.

"Sorry, but you just sat in the cafeteria," Sammy says. "You may not like torture, but you didn't do anything to stop it. You basically just turned a blind eye to it. So Aunt Grandma, you don't get immunity either, since you didn't really contribute. Wendy, Boris, neither of you are getting immunity because you went out and tortured Amy, and although it was...pretty hilarious, and she'll have...that haircut..."

Sammy breaks down laughing. When she regains control, she has a huge smile on her face.

"Sorry," she says. "I shouldn't laugh. Wait, what am I saying, it's Amy, she totally deserves this! But seriously, immunity goes to Steve, because he was the only one to stand up for, uh, 'me'. Torture isn't fun or funny, even if it's against somebody you hate because they've bullied you all your life and you just want them to feel the way they've made you feel ever since you were born!" She takes a few deep breaths. "So yeah. Immunity goes to Steve."

Sammy turns and walks away, and I'm simultaneously glad that she recognized me and annoyed that I'm now a few inches closer to being a target.


	36. The Take No Prisoners Jockette

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. It wasn't because of Wendy–or rather, not because Wendy stayed awake. Wendy was out like a light the instant her head hit the pillow. But it was about Wendy in a very specific way: she's become a lot more ruthless. Her ruthlessness could be useful to me, but it also makes her a loose cannon. Couple that with her seeming lack of trust in me, and suddenly I'm not sure how well I control her. I'm pretty sure she still recognizes that I'm right about us being the biggest targets on the island. I'm just not certain.

Wendy wasn't the only one acting suspicious, either. It made no sense for Steve to talk to me at dinner, especially to apologize to me. He might be trying to pull me into an alliance with him and Andy, but if that's the case, why didn't he bring it up? You'd think that he'd take a perfect opportunity when everyone was distracted to try and talk me into allying with him, but instead he just apologized for how poorly he treated me while we were on the same team. I don't believe him, but it makes no sense for him to do that. Maybe he was just trying to make sure that he wouldn't be voted off by me, but I don't see what he has to fear from anybody else, unless his friendship with Andy has somehow soured.

And then there's Boris. Boris has practically dropped off the radar. It makes no sense, since he's made it plain he sees Andy as an enemy and Wendy quite obviously has a grudge against him for voting her off earlier. You'd think he'd be trying to make friends, but apparently that's not the case. Does he expect that somehow, the rest of us are going to gang up on each other and leave him alone? He _has_ to ally with a stronger player–

He _has_ allied with a stronger player.

Or maybe not a stronger player, but with other _players_. He must have joined up with Steve and Andy while I wasn't looking. Sure, he probably hates Andy, but he's out of options and has to strike a deal. So obviously, he joined Steve and Andy. Since one of them has immunity already, that means that if tomorrow is an elimination game, Wendy or I are going home. Which means that Steve was apologizing to me just in case nobody in his group got immunity–I'm probably target number one!

I needed to tell Wendy, so I sat up in my bunk. Unfortunately, I forgot that I was in the top bunk–and more importantly that the cabins have low ceilings. I slammed my head on the ceiling, knocking myself unconscious.

* * *

"AUNT GRANDMA!"

I jerked upright, slamming my head into the ceiling again.

"Get to the cafeteria, you redheaded freak!" the masculine voice commanded. "We're already running late because of you! Now get your butt over here!"

My head ached in two different places, mainly because it had hit the ceiling twice in the past twelve hours. I wasn't quite sure what time it was, because being knocked unconscious tends to throw off my internal clock, but I did know that that since the voice didn't belong to Chris or Chef, chances are it was today's previous contestant. And if he was already here, the challenge would be starting soon if not immediately, and I might not get a chance to talk to Wendy. That's a pity, because we really need a plan now that the three males are allied against us.

After I got dressed I jogged to the mess hall. I opened the door and found a woman waiting for me. She had short, dirty blonde hair and purple eyes, and she was wearing a gray tracksuit and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Finally!" she said impatiently. "I've been waiting forever! Now all of you, start running! We're hitting the beach!"

The woman took off, and I followed along with everybody else. She started to outpace us, but when she did she glanced back, turned around, ran behind us, and started yelling at us to run faster. We made it to the beach in seemingly record time and stopped when she said we could.

We had stopped at the edge of the water, next to a twenty foot long rope bridge that led to some sort of strange boat floating in the water.

"Alright, you weaklings!" the woman barked. "For the _idiot_ that showed up late, my name is Jo. No, I never _won_ Total Drama. Yes, I _was_ cheated. No, I _don't_ care about any of you. Yes, today is going to be painful for _all_ of you." She grinned wickedly. "Today, I'm going to test the most important things about you. I'm going to test your strength! I'm going to test your intelligence! And I'm going to test your ability to take a punch!" Steve raised his hand. "What, Lab Coat?"

"Can I be excused?" Steve asked timidly. "I have immunity, so–"

"Fine," Jo said. "Marge Simpson is excused. As for the rest of you–"

"Marge Simpson?" Steve asked.

"Your hair is taller than you are, now shut up!" Jo said angrily. "As I was saying, the rest of you are going to box each other. We'll have six boxing matches so all of you can go up against each other, and then one final boxing match to choose the champ. Each match is going to last for one two-minute round except for the championship match. The ring is over there." She gestured to the boat floating offshore, which I could now tell was actually a boxing ring. "That way, none of you can influence the outcome." She smirked. "Plus, it's harder to fight on a shifting surface, so you idiots should fall down a lot. Any questions?"

Andy raised his hand.

"I don't care!" Jo said happily. "So, for our first match...Aunt Grandma, Wendy, GET IN THE RING!"

Wendy entered the rope bridge ahead of me and swiftly climbed over to the ring in the water. I stepped on the bridge behind her, and took longer to get there, mainly because I still had to get my bearings on the shifting surface. Once we arrived, I took a position in a corner, and Wendy walked over to another corner. It was then that Chef popped out of the water and climbed into the ring while wearing nothing but a tight, sparkly pink bikini with a thong bottom. He walked into the center of the ring while holding up a pot and a wooden spoon, stopped there, and banged the pot with the spoon before crossing to the other side and diving underwater again.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Jo barked. "Fight already!"

We approached each other. Wendy took a few swings at me, but none of them were particularly hard since she was mostly trying not to lose her balance. I was doing the same, and dodged only a little bit. I took a few half-hearted swings at her, too, but didn't make any real attempt to get them to connect since I was focused on how to tell Wendy what was going on. I suppose I could have told her then, but we were too close to shore for me to be sure we wouldn't be overheard by one of the other three; if they knew we were working together, one of us would definitely go home tonight.

The round was over faster than I thought, and Jo grumpily declared our match a draw. I let Wendy walk back to shore ahead of me so that I could try and figure out what to do. The annoying thing was that despite having the day off, Steve was standing with Boris and Andy. Hopefully he wouldn't try to stand too close to me and Wendy, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did exactly that. Worst of all, he had an excuse for sticking around, since there really isn't much to do at this camp outside of challenges.

As Jo roughly pushed Andy and Boris towards the rope bridge, I saw that Steve wasn't going to go away. Instead, when Wendy and I stood on the shore watching Boris and Andy try to fight, or at least pretending to, Steve walked up to us and attempted to make conversation. Fortunately for me, Wendy was willing to talk to Steve, so I could continue to ponder how to get a message through to Wendy–or, barring that, to break up the new alliance between the three guys without letting them know that I knew about it.

Suddenly, Boris, who had done a pretty good job of beating up on Andy, swung wildly and missed completely when Andy sidestepped his punch. Boris lost his balance and fell forward, sliding along the floor of the ring, underneath the bottom rope, and into the water. When he bobbed to the surface, he looked around wildly, as if he was trying to figure out what happened.

"Alright, that's ten!" Jo barked. "You're out, Shortenov!"

Boris groaned and started to paddle back to shore, but Jo barked at him "Hey! Did I say you weren't fighting in the next match? Wendy and Boris, get in the ring!"

Andy climbed across the rope bridge and walked over to us. Wendy walked across the bridge as soon as Andy was across, and Boris managed to climb back into the ring just before she arrived and stood in his corner, soaking wet. Chef once again popped out of the water to pound the pot, and I decided that it was time to make my move and break up the boys.

"So, Steve, nice job winning immunity yesterday," I said.

Steve looked uncomfortable. "Thanks."

"So what are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"Avoid getting beaten up, apparently," Andy said. He winced. "My legs are going to be bruised for weeks!"

"Oh, did Boris hurt you that badly?" I asked sympathetically.

Andy nodded. "He's a real pain in the ass."

"He's pretty bad," Steve agreed.

That was my opportunity.

"So why not get rid of him?" I asked.

Andy snorted. "What do you think we've been trying to do?"

"Yeah," Steve added. "Ever since Nazz left we've wanted to get rid of him. But we haven't had any elimination ceremonies since then."

"Right," I said, pretending to catch on. "So you think we'll be able to get rid of him today?"

"I dunno," Steve said. "He's doing pretty well."

Jo blew her whistle. "Round's over, Shortenov wins by decision! Slacker Boy, Aunt Grouchy, you're up!"

Andy grimaced and looked me in the eyes. "Be gentle?"

I stifled a grin. "No promises."

We entered the ring. As soon as Chef banged the pot and jumped into the water, we both came to the center. Andy threw a few punches, but his form was weak and his stance was powerless. I let him swing away for a few seconds before sending a few quick jabs into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Andy doubled over, and I hit him with a left hook he never saw coming. He hit the ground and lay there until Jo called the match.

"Pigtails wins in a knockout!" Jo said loudly. "Somebody wake Slackity Ann up so he can fight Wendy."

"I'm up," Andy said as he pulled himself to his feet. "Don't worry about me."

Jo scowled. "Did you take a dive?"

"No," Andy said bitterly. "I realized I was gonna get killed if I didn't stay down."

Jo smirked. "Smart. I'd be a million dollars richer if Brightning was able to figure that out."

I passed Wendy on my way off the bridge and thought about pulling her aside to talk to her, but quickly dismissed the notion since that would've attracted unwanted attention. Instead, I just walked over to a point between Boris and Steve. They were standing apart from each other, but that was to be expected. I was surprised that Steve and Andy were able to lie so well about not being in an alliance with Boris, but I had apparently underestimated them, at least as far as lying was concerned.

I watched as Chef again got out of the water, banged his pot, and hopped back into the lake. Andy and Wendy walked up to each other and sized each other up. Then Wendy threw the first punch–a haymaker that knocked Andy off of his feet.

He was unconscious before he hit the floor of the ring.

"Wendy wins!" Jo declared.

"What, no nickname?" Wendy asked sarcastically.

Jo looked Wendy over. "Whatever you want, Flannel. Now somebody scrape him up and get him off so we can get on with the last fight."

Chef hopped out of the water, grumbling about having to do all the work while Chris got an all-season vacation. He slung Andy over his shoulder and followed Wendy across the bridge. Once they were off the bridge, Boris headed for the ring, still dripping water. I followed him, sizing him up as we walked, and grinned as I calculated exactly what I'd need to do.

This time, Chef banged his pot while standing on the shore. As soon as he did, Boris started to walk towards me with a wide grin on his face. I knelt down, waited until he got within arm's length, and then smashed him with an uppercut. Boris went flying out of the ring, just as I predicted, and landed too far away to swim back before ten seconds had passed.

"Finally!" Jo said. "Now let's see. Grouchy had two wins, Shortenov had one, Andy had one, Flannel had one...what am I missing here?"

"Wendy and Aunt Grandma tied," Chef pointed out.

"Right!" Jo said. "Fine. Flannel! Grouchy! You two are the top fighters! Get in the ring!"

* * *

Five minutes later, Chef was back in the water, Wendy and I were in opposite corners, and Jo was standing in the middle of the ring.

"Alright, you two," Jo said. "You're apparently the strongest of the weaklings in this game, so here's how it works. Three rounds, three minutes each, a minute break between every round. I'll judge who the winner is, and of course, the winner of the bout will get immunity. Now hopefully you idiots won't put on as pathetic a performance as you did the first time. Any questions?"

Neither of us raised our hands.

"Good, because I don't care," Jo said. "Now, Chef, if you'd do the honors?"

Chef simply raised the pot and spoon out of the water and banged on them. Jo stepped aside, and Wendy and I got out of our corners. It was now or never.

I approached her and leaned in. "I have to–"

 _sword canes are a good way of concealing a blade and making yourself look weak so that your target underestimates you_

Wendy punched me in the face, and I staggered backwards. I regained my balance just as she launched herself at me.

 _sensory deprivation can be used to create anxiety, hallucinations, and depression_

Wendy peppered my body with punches. I pushed her off, but she came right back at me.

"I have to tell you something!" I hissed.

 _crossbows were considered the most dangerous weapons ever invented at the time of their introduction to england_

Wendy launched an uppercut into my jaw.

"Please just listen to me!" I hissed.

Wendy ignored me and drew back her fist to punch me again.

* * *

 _the blood spills out from the cut on her arm, newly-reopened by the hot water of the shower_

 _"so how does it feel"_

 _"what do you mean"_

 _"you know. to lose. to me"  
_

 _what is she talking about_

 _she lost to me_

 _i got the lead position on the fencing team_

 _i managed to cut her arm open with a fencing sword_

 _quite an accomplishment if i say so myself_

 _i didn't lose to her_

 _"you seem to have it out for me"_

 _"i don't know why but you want to beat me at everything"_

 _"so i want to know how it felt when i won the science fair and you got second place"_


	37. The Athlete

**Enter...  
STEVE**

We all stare at the ring as Aunt Grandma beats Wendy up.

"So...should we do something?" Andy says eventually.

Jo snorts. "Are you kidding me? This is great entertainment!"

"But what if Wendy gets killed?" I ask.

Jo shrugs. "Saves you four the trouble of deciding who gets eliminated."

We look at her, disturbed.

"That's cold," Chef says.

Jo groans. "Fine. Chef, get in there and break them up."

Chef's eyes widen. "Are you sure about that? I don't think it's a good idea to get in front of an angry woman."

"It isn't," Jo says. "Which is why I'm making you do it."

Chef frowns angrily. "Lousy teenagers! The things I do for this show..."

Chef swims out to the ring and manages to separate Wendy and Aunt Grandma. Once he does, Aunt Grandma walks back across the bridge to shore. Chef follows her, carrying Wendy's unconscious body with him.

"You know, I should disqualify you," Jo tells Aunt Grandma. "Beating up on an unconscious person? Ignoring the end of the round? All kinds of stuff I could nab you on. But, you were the strongest fighter out there and didn't need to cheat to win, so you get immunity."

Jo looks around. "Where's Chris? Isn't he supposed to show up about now?"

"Probably still sleeping in his trailer," Chef says. "He got in pretty late last night."

"Fine," Jo says. "So. Slacky, Shorty, Sleepy, one of you is going home tonight. Now Chef, is there any decent food around here?"

"Uh, yeah," Chef says. "Back at the production site."

"Good, let's go," Jo says.

Chef shakes his head as he follows her to the production camp. "Why am I always the sidekick?"

* * *

Nothing important happens for the rest of the day, which is just fine with me. Even at dinner, Andy isn't talking much. Of course, that's because he's been beaten up pretty badly by the females left in the game.

As I slowly chew my food, I think about how almost everything that happened yesterday is coming back to bite me today. I thought that talking to Aunt Grandma might take me off of her radar as a threat, just in case she was still mad at me for the whole debacle of on the same team as me. Instead, I just made her more suspicious. I don't think she's on the right trail, since she was asking questions about how Andy and I feel about Boris. That tells me that she probably thinks we're in an alliance–that, or she wants to form one with us to vote off Boris. But she theoretically doesn't have to worry about that, since Wendy hates Boris and Boris hates Andy. She should think she's in the clear.

Unless perhaps she wants to get rid of Wendy. That's the only explanation for how she snapped in the ring and just started beating Wendy up. Things must not be much fun in their cabin–or at least, I'd assume that's the case. Which means that maybe she wants us to get rid of Wendy instead of Boris.

I look around the dining room. Wendy and Aunt Grandma are both looking at me suspiciously for some reason. Wendy's occasionally glancing back at Aunt Grandma, though. Andy's just keeping his head down, and Boris looks secretly thrilled.

Maybe Boris has some big secret plan that he's trying to put into action. I wouldn't mind seeing him try, honestly, if for no other reason than that his eventual failure would be a huge shock to him. Then again, maybe I don't really want him to fail. It's time that I started thinking about the final three, since it's not that far away. Boris may be a huge pain in the ass, he's not as strong as Aunt Grandma or Wendy. Andy's useful, so I definitely want him around as long as possible, but I don't have any use for Aunt Grandma and Wendy.

Tonight, there are two possible targets. The only question is whether I want to get rid of Boris or Wendy. Wendy's probably a less-likely target, but if things keep going the way they're going, she and Aunt Grandma might have immunity at the same time. This new 'two people with immunity' thing isn't something I planned for. So now that I have to take that into account...

Fuck it. As unlikely as it may seem, Wendy's going home tonight.

* * *

I'm still not happy that Aunt Grandma's suspicious of me. I mean, sure, I should have expected her to catch on eventually. And if I'm being honest, I'm surprised that it's taken until now for anybody to finger me. But she could seriously throw a wrench into my plans.

I slowly eat dinner, but as soon as Aunt Grandma leaves to go vote I quickly clear my place and follow her. Strangely enough, she was the last person out of the cafeteria besides me. This is going to make things slightly more complicated. But only slightly more complicated.

I make sure to stay out of sight until after Aunt Grandma has finished voting. As soon as she's left the confessional and headed to the campfire pit, though, I scurry forward and slip inside the outhouse, making triply-sure the door is locked. That's always part one of what has become an almost nightly routine for me.

Part two, of course, is cracking open the voting box and seeing how everybody else voted.

I pull out my screwdriver and unscrew the hinges on the back of the box. It's so weakly put together that I'm surprised nobody's done this before me. As soon as the hinges are unscrewed, I pop the top open and pull out the votes. Three for Boris with one for Andy in Boris's handwriting. I snort. Not much I can work with here. Not that it matters. Nobody cares enough to check the handwriting, or at least, nobody cares enough to stop me from cheating.

I grab four ballots and fill them out for Wendy, signing Andy's name, Aunt Grandma's name, and Boris's name at the top. I dump them back in the ballot box, along with Wendy's vote for Boris, and shut the lid. I rescrew the hinges together, sealing the box so that it doesn't look like it's been tampered with to whomever comes after me. Not that it matters today, but I don't want to leave any evidence for the others on the island.

Finally, I cast my ballot and head off to the campfire ceremony. Tonight, I'll be one step closer to the million and have gotten rid of one of my strongest competitors.

* * *

When I show up at the campfire, everybody is already waiting, including Sky. I assume she'll be giving out the marshmallows tonight.

"So, this is Sky," Chris introduces her. "She's gonna give out the marshmallows, tell you who won, yadda yadda yadda. I'd leave, but I don't have anywhere to go, so I'm just gonna stay here and make fun of Sky."

"Why?" Sky asks.

"Gotta earn my paycheck somehow," Chris says. "And since this season I'm not getting to host–and oh yes, it's annoying–I have _way_ too few opportunities to get my smiling face in front of a camera. So I'm taking advantage of them where I can."

"Fine," Sky says, tight-lipped. "In that case, I'm gonna ignore those special instructions you gave me."

Chris's eyes pop. "Wait, what?"

"Okay, guys!" Sky says to us. "Because I don't like to drag this stuff out and leave everybody stressed, I'm just going to tell you that today's elimination wasn't decided by voting. Jo got to choose who performed worst in today's boxing matches, and that means that the worst performer of the day is going home. So I guess that means you're saying goodbye, Boris."

Boris stands up and tips his hat. "I always knew it would end this way. Actually, I didn't, but I'll say I did to seem smarter."

"Whatever!" Chris says. "Boris is gone, and we're in the final four...for now."

"What's that mean?" Wendy asks suspiciously.

Chris grins. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure tomorrow won't be a double-elimination or anything. Anyway, we drop to four and shut the door on Boris's hopes of winning! Who's gonna go down next? Find out when we bring back a real whiz kid to test our competitors mentally, here! On Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

You know, I probably should have seen this coming. I couldn't have, obviously. There's no way that I could have seen that the votes wouldn't matter tonight but somebody would still get eliminated. But I should've known that Chris would pull some sort of bullshit on us. Apart from the bullshit that is allowing people to rig the votes without any punishment, of course.

I'm still not happy about it. Now, instead of having one strong player that everyone would target for elimination, an ally, and somebody who's focused on my ally, there are two strong players and an ally. This doesn't mean the game is unwinnable. It just means that instead of me flying completely under the radar, there are now three factions: Wendy, Aunt Grandma, and the friendship between me and Andy. Add in that Chris all but confirmed that two people will be eliminated tomorrow, and suddenly, I'm not in such a good position.

I'm gonna need luck tomorrow.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Wendy Corduroy: Boris Badenov  
Boris Badenov: Wendy Corduroy  
Aunt Grandma: Wendy Corduroy  
Steve: Wendy Corduroy  
Andy French: Wendy Corduroy

Final tally of votes cast:

Wendy Corduroy: 4  
Boris Badenov: 1


	38. The LARPer

**Enter...  
STEVE**

I wake up before Andy. That's not unusual. What is unusual is that, judging by the amount of light outside, it's not much past seven o'clock in the morning. Not that this is a good morning at all. I can't fathom what kind of fool would call it that. If Chris meant to cut me down without actually revealing what I've done or eliminating me, this was a pretty good job. Boris was the one who was _supposed_ to go home, but I was going to keep him on the island to keep the pressure off of me. Instead, Boris is gone. Now not only do I have to deal with Aunt Grandma _and_ Wendy, both of whom can and will kick my ass, but their eyes will be on me. When I got in tight with Andy, I thought that it would pay off plenty of ways. I thought it would make the vote outcomes more likely so nobody would catch on to me rigging them. I thought it would make him my friend and willing to help me. I thought because people liked him less, he'd be a shield I could hide behind.

I did _not_ think that it would end up with our friendship being the closest thing to an alliance in the final four. Admittedly, that's partially my fault. If I saw any alliances forming, I would have split them up. And my messing with the votes probably killed any chance that anybody on this island would trust anybody else. But alliances are worrying to people on the outside of them. Which means that while I'd love it if Wendy and Aunt Grandma were focused on knocking each other out, I've made myself and Andy look like equally dangerous targets.

Add into that how Chris implied at last night's campfire ceremony that today would be a double elimination, and the odds get much worse. Even if Aunt Grandma and Wendy don't work together, one of them is probably moving on. Both of them might move into the finale, really. And that leaves either me or Andy on the outside. I don't like those odds.

I hear a horn blare through the morning air. Andy wakes up dazed.

"Huh? What's going on?" he mumbles.

"Attention peasants!" an unfamiliar voice says. "Come out to the main festival hall, where the greatest wizard of all will amaze and astound you with feats of magic!"

"Give me that," Chef grumbles in the background. He clears his throat, and the microphone picks it up at high volume. "He means that you all need to get to the mess hall for today's challenge. That is all."

The intercom shuts off. I look over at Andy.

"Who do you think it is?" I ask.

"Whoever it is, he sounds totally lame," Andy says.

* * *

"Yep. Totally lame," Andy says as soon as we step into the mess hall.

I can't disagree with him. That's because today, our challenger is _Leonard_.

I want to be clear. I don't have a problem with nerds. I _am_ a nerd. But Leonard is the type of nerd that other nerds look down upon. LARPing is one thing; it may not be socially acceptable, but lots of places have Renaissance Fairs, and honestly, LARPing is pretty much the same thing. But Leonard has a serious problem with realizing the difference between games and real life. He seems to seriously think he's a wizard, he doesn't realize why nobody likes him, and his voice is _really_ annoying. On top of all that, he was incredibly lame on international TV. So no, I'm not a fan of Leonard. I don't think _anybody_ is. He's just the type of nerd that other nerds all wish would disappear. You can call it lameness by association.

There's an upside to this, in that he probably won't make us do a physical challenge. Of course, if the alternative is cheering on his stupid wizard powers, I'd rather go back to Eva's weightlifting challenge. At least that was over quickly.

"Huzzah!" Leonard cheers. "You have all arrived! Take a seat at the table of trepidation!"

That's another thing that he changed. He's sitting near the kitchen, behind a large half-moon table. There are four seats on the left side of it, one for each of us, and each one an actual chair instead of a stool, with plenty of elbow room for all of us. There's another chair on the other side of the table, but Chris is sitting in it, sipping on a glass of tomato juice.

"Hey Chris," Wendy says, sliding into one of the chairs. "What's with the tomato juice?"

"Tomato juice?" Chris asks. "I never drink...tomato juice."

"But it's your favorite drink," I say. It's true. Sierra mentioned it in the Yukon episode.

Chris frowns. "Dude, I was making an allusion."

We stare at him silently.

"You know, Dracula?" he prompts. "Bela Lugosi? I never drink...wine?"

"Yes, you're very funny," Aunt Grandma says flatly.

Chris groans. "Fine. Whatever. Don't take a hint."

"Wait, what's the hint?" I ask.

"The hint is, Leonard is a total loser and this is going to be a totally lame episode," Chris says. "Got it? Good. McLean out!"

Chris swivels his chair around, leaving us facing the dark black back of his chair and completely hiding him from view. The rest of us take our seats. Leonard grins.

"Welcome, valiant warriors, to a world where vampires rule the nighttime air! Where villages cower in fear before their terrifying supernatural overlords! Where the only protectors of innocence and justice are brave wizards, strong fighters, charismatic rogues, spoony bards, forthright–"

"He wants you to play a one-shot of Villages and Vampires," Chef interrupts.

"I was getting to that!" Leonard protests.

"Villages and Vampires," I say happily. "Man, I used to play that all the time in college."

It's true. When I wasn't busting my ass studying, I hung out with friends. We were all pretty nerdy, so a lot of us were into tabletop RPGs. I guess I eventually drifted away from the hobby, since it wasn't my thing in the first place. Still, I remember enough about it that I'd bet I'm probably the most experienced player at this table. If I can roll well today, everything's going to come up my way.

Andy snorts. "Sounds like something my nerdy little brother would play."

Chef Hatchet puts character sheets and pencils in front of each of us. "Leonard will help you roll up your characters. I'm gonna go into the kitchen so I can _avoid_ all this creepy nerd stuff."

* * *

I didn't roll too badly. I didn't have any spectacular rolls, apart from a 16 that I put in Intelligence, but I didn't have any truly horrible rolls, apart from a 6 that I put in Charisma. Really, it's a good thing I chose to be our wizard, because Aunt Grandma wanted to be a cleric and Wendy wanted to be a barbarian. That left Andy to try and choose a class. He went with rogue, leaving us as a pretty balanced team. We could probably have used another spellcaster, but that would require a fifth member. Besides, as the only magic user, I'm the most vital part of our team.

"Kitchen wench!" Leonard calls. "Bring us out the victuals!"

Chef exits the kitchen and gets in Leonard's face. "What'd you call me, wizard boy?"

Leonard looks nervous. "I mean, Archchancellor Hatchet! Please, send out the victuals!"

"That's better," Chef grumbles, reentering the kitchen.

When Chef comes out again, he's pushing a food cart piled high with all kinds of delicious, crunchy, salty snacks. Before any of us can react, Chef goes back into the kitchen and brings out _another_ cart stacked with pizza and fried foods. He then goes into the kitchen and brings out a decently large fridge with a bunch of sodas inside and a large bowl of candy bars.

"Eat, young warriors!" Leonard tells us. "All adventurers need plenty of energy before they set out on an epic quest!"

We don't need to be told twice. All of us grab some food and dig in.

"You know," Andy says to me through a mouthful of pizza, "I'm starting to think this Leonard guy _isn't_ totally lame after all."

...he isn't right, but he's not wrong. At least Leonard thought to feed us. Pretty much everybody else has let us suffer through Chef's food. Then again, Leonard's running an RPG, and everybody knows a decent gaming session needs plenty of unhealthy snacks.

* * *

About half an hour later, most of us are stuffed, although I'm pretty sure we'll hit the snack tables a few more times while we still can. If you'd been surviving on Chef's cooking for the last few weeks, you'd do the same.

"So, you said something about an epic quest," Aunt Grandma says calmly. "What is it?"

Leonard rubs his hands together sinisterly. "Oh, you'll see soon enough." He looks confused. "Actually, what was it? Let's see here..." He puts up his screen and looks at his notes. "Ah! You all meet in an inn."

"Like, a motel?" Andy asks.

"No, like a tavern," I say.

"So this adventure starts in a bar," Aunt Grandma says. "Let me guess, we'll have to go on the epic quest of choosing a designated driver?"

"No!" Leonard says. "You all, by sheer chance, choose the same table to sit at."

"Really?" Wendy asks. "I usually sit at the bar, personally. Not that I'd, uh, know anything about that."

"I don't go to bars," Aunt Grandma says. "The alcohol is always overpriced."

"Ignoring Aunt Grandma's lack of a social life–" Andy says.

"Hey!" Aunt Grandma protests.

"–what kind of weirdos sit down at a table with people they don't even know?" he asks.

"There's nowhere else to sit, okay?" Leonard says.

"Why's the bar so crowded?" Andy asks. "Do they have a hopping band or something?"

"No!" Leonard says. "The tavern is almost deserted!"

"So why are we all sitting together?" Wendy asks. "No offense, but I wouldn't want to sit next to any of you if I had a choice."

"You're a barbarian," I point out.

"What's your point?" she asks.

"All of the other chairs and tables are either occupied or destroyed!" Leonard quickly says. "So you all have to sit together at the same table. You have been sitting there for about ten minutes when you are approached by a beautiful young woman with incredibly pale skin, long black hair, and vibrant red lips."

"I'll take a beer," Wendy says.

"I'll have a beer too," Andy says. "Oh, and a burger."

"Everclear for me," I say.

"Two shots of Old Crow and a glass of water," Aunt Grandma says.

"She's not a waitress!" Leonard says.

"Oh, well where's our waitress then?" Andy asks. "I mean, we're in a bar, and there's no band playing. Obviously we're here to drink."

"She's not your waitress!" Leonard exclaims. "Just listen, okay?"

"How do we play, anyway?" Wendy asks. "Do we just roll these dice?"

"Yeah, you roll the dice to see how successful you were at an action," I say.

"Hold on," Andy says. "Can we roll to be successful at _anything?_ "

"Um, yes," Leonard says. "Anyway, this young lady–"

"Is she hot?" Andy asks.

"Yes, she's beautiful, and she needs your help," Leonard says. "There have been–"

"Which of these dice do I need to roll?" Andy asks.

"Twenty-sided," I tell him.

"You don't need to roll any dice!" Leonard says.

Andy ignores him. "Twenty-sided, twenty-sided..."

I pick up a d20 and hand it to him. He grins at me.

"Thanks, Steve," he says. "Anyway, I roll to seduce her."

"You can't roll to seduce her!" Leonard says, sounding upset.

Andy rolls the die. 11.

"Is an eleven good enough?" he asks.

"No!" Leonard says. "No trying to seduce her!"

"Okay, what if I buy her a drink, would that help?" Andy asks.

"Yeah, where is our waitress anyway?" Wendy asks.

"Just! Listen!" Leonard demands. "She comes up to you and asks for your help, since you're all adventurers."

"Wait, how does she know that?" Wendy asks. "We've never met each other before."

Leonard ignores her. "There's a castle on the hill just outside the village, and strange things have been going on inside. She'll give you 20 gold each and pay your bar tab if you investigate it."

"But we haven't even ordered anything," Andy says. "We don't _have_ a bar tab."

"And besides...what's the weather like outside?" Wendy asks.

"It's a dark and stormy night!" Leonard says excitedly. "The wind is howling, the rain is occasionally coming down, and there is no moon in the sky."

"Yeah, no thanks," Wendy says. "I'm gonna kick back here where it's warm and dry."

"I'm with you," Aunt Grandma says. "No sense in going out there for no reason."

"Oh, come on!" Leonard whines. "You have to investigate the castle."

"Yeah, sorry, but since we get to choose what we do in this game, no chance," Andy says.

Leonard frowns. "Fine. You express your unwillingness to go up to the castle to the woman, and she attacks...you!" He points at me and rolls a die. "Roll a Reflex save!"

17 with a -1 penalty.

"16," I say.

Leonard frowns. "You dodge. Roll for initiative, all of you."

"What, me?" Andy asks. "Why should I fight? I don't know this guy!" He looks at me apologetically. "In-character, that is."

"Hey, I get it," I say.

"Wait, so is this the part where we fight stuff?" Wendy asks.

"Yes!" Leonard says. "You know, depending on how you roll."

Wendy shrugs and picks up a die. Aunt Grandma and I do the same thing, and Andy rolls his eyes and picks up a die as well.

"I'm only doing this because I don't want to lose the challenge," Andy warns us. "Not because I'm gonna defend the rest of you if we get attacked by some crazy lady with mental issues."

"Oh, nobody loses at Villages and Vampires!" Leonard says happily. "You know, unless you don't have fun, or your gaming group kicks you out for being too weird, or there's a TPK. But otherwise, everybody wins."

Andy rolls his eyes and his die. The rest of us do the same. 9 for Andy, 4 for Aunt Grandma, 6 for me and 15 for Wendy.

"16!" Wendy calls.

"9," Andy says.

"5," I admit.

"4," Aunt Grandma says bitterly.

"Wendy, you go first!" Leonard says. "What do you choose to do?"

"I hit her with my greataxe," Wendy says.

"Roll to hit!" Leonard says.

"How much dice rolling does this game have, anyway?" Wendy asks.

"Lots," Leonard, Aunt Grandma, and I answer simultaneously.

Wendy rolls a 5.

"You miss but cleave the table in twain," Leonard says. "Andy! What do you do?"

"I hit her with my hammer," Andy says boredly. He rolls a 15. "Did that hit?"

"It does," Leonard says. "Roll for damage!"

Andy picks up the d20, but Leonard stops him. "No, a d6."

"Six-sided die," I explain.

"Got it," Andy says. He picks one up and rolls a four.

"Okay, you smash her elbow with your hammer," Leonard says. "Steve?"

"Well, I gotta conserve my magic, so...I punch her?" I suggest.

"Roll to hit," Leonard says.

I roll and wince. 2.

Leonard shakes his head. "You miss and almost punch Andy in the face."

"Hey!" Andy complains.

"I said almost!" Leonard says.

"Oh, I'd be saying more than hey if it wasn't almost!" Andy says. "Whatever. Now what?"

"My turn," Aunt Grandma says. "I'm going to use my elven curved blade to cut her throat out." She grabs a die and rolls a 12. "Is that good enough?"

"Roll for damage," Leonard says.

Aunt Grandma grins. "Ten-sided die?"

Leonard nods. Aunt Grandma grabs the die and rolls a seven.

"You don't cut her throat out, but you do slice through her windpipe, and she collapses on the table and suffocates," Steve says.

"Well, that was easy," Wendy says proudly.

"Of course it was, it was the first encounter of the game," Aunt Grandma says.

"Well, if nobody else is going to do anything, I'm going to take her wallet," Andy says.

"Roll to take the wallet," Leonard says.

Andy rolls his eyes but rolls a die. 20.

"Not only do you take the wallet," Leonard says, "but you happen to snag a piece of paper along with it, that promises her a reward for every person she manages to send up to the castle."

Andy shrugs. "Meh, not my problem. So how much money is in the wallet?"

"20 silver and 5 copper," Leonard says.

"Next round's on me, guys," Andy says.

"A large man approaches your table," Leonard says.

"Good, our waiter's finally here," Andy says. "I'll have a beer and a burger."

"A shot of Everclear for me," I say.

"Two shots of Old Crow and a glass of water," Aunt Grandma says.

"A beer, and do you guys sell wings?" Wendy asks. "Really craving some Buffalo wings right now."

"Yeah, you're not getting any of that," Leonard says. We look at him, confused. "I'm speaking as the innkeeper, okay? Anyway," he clears his throat, "You guys just killed somebody and destroyed one of the few tables I have left. I'm kicking you out."

"But we didn't even get to order!" Wendy complains.

"Look, are you gonna leave peacefully or not?" Leonard asks.

"C'mon, man, it's windy–" Andy protests.

"And sometimes rainy–" I add.

"Outside," Andy says. "Can't we just let bygones be bygones?"

"Out, the innkeeper says, pointing to the door," Leonard says.

"Fine, let's go," Aunt Grandma says.

"C'mon, we can take him," Wendy says. "We just took down that weird chick with like no trouble at all."

Aunt Grandma raises an eyebrow. "Firstly, that was in self-defense. This would be murder. Secondly, murdering an innkeeper is a bad idea, since they're usually good at fighting in worlds like this. And finally, Leonard is obviously railroading us towards the castle, so we should get moving anyway."

"I'm not trying to railroad!" Leonard complains. "You people just don't want to move!"

"And your point is..." Wendy prompts.

"My point is, it's a one-shot!" Leonard says. "There's a beginning, a middle, and an end, and you people just want to stay at the beginning, forever, drinking alcohol and eating wings!"

"That actually sounds pretty good," I say.

Leonard groans. "Would you please just follow the plot? Archchancellor Hatchet had me write it especially for you."

"And it didn't occur to you to add subplots or other possible paths to explore?" Aunt Grandma asks. "It seems to me that a good GM would take into account the mercurial nature of his players and allow them to help craft the story. That's kind of the point of the whole collaborative storytelling concept."

"I would, but–look, would you just trust me on this?" Leonard asks. "I promise, you can help craft the story, but there's a plot point we need to hit, and it's _in the castle as we speak_!"

"But that's my point," Aunt Grandma says. "Why make your plot-critical points dependent upon your players going to a certain place at a certain time, especially in a one-shot like this?"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Andy says. He points at Aunt Grandma. "Why do _you_ know so much about this nerd stuff? I swear, you're starting to sound like Kevin."

Aunt Grandma looks at him critically. "I have hobbies."

"You do?" Wendy asks, surprised.

" _Yes_ , I _do_ ," Aunt Grandma says.

"And your hobbies are nerdy games like this," Andy says skeptically.

"Okay!" Leonard cuts him off. "To answer your question, Archchancellor Hatchet made sure I put it in. Happy?"

"Wait, why'd Chef make you include it?" Wendy asks. "What are you planning?"

"I–I can't tell you, it's a surprise!" Leonard says. "To tell you now would ruin the whole game."

"Okay, now I really want to know," Andy says.

"Me too," I add. "What are you hiding, Leonard?"

Leonard looks around nervously and then sighs. "I didn't want to have to do this..."

"C'mon, Lenny, you know you want to," Wendy says.

Leonard closes his eyes and then opens them wide and raises his arms. "SILENCIO ADVENTUROS!"

We look at him oddly. Andy opens his mouth, and though it moves, no sound comes out.

"I told you I didn't want to do this, but you kept making things go off track," Leonard says. "Now I just need a minute or two to think, and to get you to the castle door."

Andy says something angrily, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

"Whoa, Andy, did he really cast a silence spell?" I ask.

Andy and Wendy crack up.

"Dude, that was a prank," Andy says, still laughing. "And you fell for it!"

"Well–well it would've worked if you all believed in me!" Leonard says angrily.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Aunt Grandma says.

Leonard pouts. "Would you at least go to the castle?"

"Fine, whatever, we'll go to your stupid castle," Andy says.

"Huzzah!" Leonard cheers. "So, after walking through the wind and the occasional rain for half an hour, you arrive at the castle doors. The castle is large and imposing, with sixteen-foot-high doors. You stare at the doors and you know that after this, nothing will ever be the same. Your destiny...lies through these doors."

"We go in," Wendy says impatiently.

"Wait!" I say. "We should check it for traps first."

Wendy looks at me skeptically. "Traps? Really?"

"Yeah," I say. "Andy, look for traps."

"Me? Why me?" Andy asks.

"You're our rogue!" I say. "You're supposed to check for traps!"

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Andy asks. "That sounded useless. I put ranks in all kinds of non-useless things."

"Like what?" I ask. "Let me see your character sheet. Maybe there's something in there we can use."

"This is pointless," Andy says as he hands it over. "Who traps doors, anyway?"

"What, you've never heard of a trapdoor?" Aunt Grandma jokes.

"Boo!" Wendy says. "Boo! Bad pun! Bad! Boo!"

"Yeah, that sucked," Andy adds.

"It was pretty bad," Leonard says. "And I should know. I'm a Level 8 Pungeon Master."

I look over Andy's skills. He has 1 rank in Sneak Attack, Acrobatics, Bluff, Diplomacy, Escape Artist, and Intimidate. None of those things will help us avoid a trap.

"Okay," I say. "Does anybody else have any skills that might be helpful?"

"If it's an animal, I can handle it," Wendy says.

"That's not what Handle Animal does," Leonard says.

"Oh. Then no, not really," Wendy says.

I groan. "Fine. I roll a Knowledge (Engineering) check for traps."

Leonard rolls a die behind his screen. "Go ahead."

I roll a d20 and get a 9. With my rank in the skill and +3 intelligence bonus, that adds up to a 13.

"13," I tell him.

"You know that there's a trap behind the door, but you're not sure what it is," Leonard says. "You only know that as soon as you open the door, something is going to fall on your heads."

"Okay, is there an overhang over our heads right now?" Wendy asks.

"No, there isn't," Leonard says.

"Okay, guys, here's what we do," Wendy says. "Andy, you're the dexterity and dodging guy. You open the door and then jump back. We'll be standing a few feet behind you, just in case."

"Man...fine," Andy grumbles.

"Because you know the trap is going to come down on you, you get a one-time +3 bonus to your Reflex save," Leonard tells Andy. "Roll wisely."

"Do I need to open the door, or can I do that without any effort?" Andy asks sarcastically.

"Roll your die, brave rogue!" Leonard declares.

Andy groans, picks up a d20, and rolls it. 14.

"Make your Reflex save!" Leonard tells him.

Andy rolls again. 9.

"So does 14 save?" he asks Leonard after consulting his character sheet.

"No," Leonard says. "Because nothing happens, even after you wait a couple of minutes to be sure."

"What, really?" Wendy asks. "Did the trap not go off, or what?"

Leonard smiles. "You'll just have to go inside and check...if you dare."

"Okay, hold on, I'm confused," Andy says. "I thought you _wanted_ us to go in the castle."

"I do!" Leonard says.

"Then why are you making it so that not going in the castle is the sane choice?" Andy asks.

"Because–it's fun?" Leonard says, sounding uncomfortable.

"Not that Andy isn't right about the smart choice being to go home and have a cup of hot chocolate," Aunt Grandma says, "but we _are_ playing a game without any actual physical consequences."

"She's not wrong," Wendy says. "Besides, we should really get into the castle eventually."

"Yeah," I say. "I wouldn't put it past Chris to turn this into another Awakeathon."

"Please," Wendy says. "It's not like you can spend days rolling dice...right?"

Nobody answers her question.

"Crap..." Wendy mutters.

Leonard clears his throat. "So are you going in or what?"

"Fine," Wendy says. "I have the most health, so I'll go in first. Andy, you go in second. Aunt Grandma, Steve, you hash it out among yourselves."

"I'll go last," I volunteer.

"Whatever," Aunt Grandma says. "Do we need to–"

"You enter the castle!" Leonard proclaims.

"I roll a Spot check," I say. Natural 20.

"You see that the reason the portcullis didn't fall is because it is stuck," Leonard says. "You also see eight bats, resting next to a tapestry, and you sense that these bats mean you ill will."

"I try to shoot them with my crossbow," I say.

Leonard nods and rolls a die. "Roll at a -5 penalty."

I roll. 14. Leonard nods.

"Your shot hits the first bat in the wing and embeds itself harmlessly in the tapestry," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

I roll the d8. 5.

"Although the bat doesn't fall to the floor, you know that it is dead," Leonard says.

"I fire another shot," I say.

Leonard rolls behind his screen. I roll a 16.

"You hit the bat in the chest," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

I roll a 1.

"The bat is still alive, but its' lung is punctured and it is unable to make any noise and will die soon," Leonard says.

"I shoot again," I say.

We roll. This time I get a six. Leonard shakes his head.

"You miss, but your bolt quietly burrows into the tapestry," Leonard says.

"I fire again," I say.

Again we roll. I roll a two, and Leonard winces.

"You miss again, and the bat with the bleeding lung drops and hits the floor," Leonard says. "The other bats snap awake. You have one more shot before they start attacking you."

"Dammit!" Wendy says angrily. "Okay, Steve, you'd better make this count. I get my axe ready."

I rolled again. 6.

"You missed, and the bats are now swarming you," Leonard says. "Everybody, roll for initiative!"

We all rolled dice. I got a 16, Andy and Aunt Grandma both got 11s, and Wendy got a 1.

"Okay, Wendy, you'll miss this round due to equipment troubles, giving one of the bats a free shot at you," Leonard says. He rolls a few more dice and grins. "Andy, there's a bat coming right at you. Roll a Reflex save!"

Andy rolls a 14.

"18!" he calls out.

Leonard nods. "You dodge. Steve, what do you do?"

"I fire another shot at them," I say.

"Take a -13 penalty on that shot," Leonard says.

I gulp. I'll need a lot of luck to get a hit.

1.

Fuck.

"The bats that were going to attack Wendy and Aunt Grandma react to your shot by trying to attack you instead," Leonard says. "Aunt Grandma, Andy, you have a chance to make an attack of opportunity that will partially negate trying to hit a moving target _if_ you try to take out a bat heading towards Steve."

"What's the modifier?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"Negative two," Leonard says.

Aunt Grandma shrugs. "It's worth a shot."

She and Andy both roll. Aunt Grandma gets a 10 (modified to 8) and Andy gets a 17 (modified to 15). Leonard nods and rolls some dice of his own before looking up at us.

"Aunt Grandma misses, but the bat reacts by trying to attack her, taking the heat off of Steve. Andy hits; roll for damage."

Andy rolls his d6 and gets a 5.

"That bat is dead!" Leonard declares. "Now, Aunt Grandma, make a Reflex save!"

Aunt Grandma rolls a 13. Leonard rolls a die of his own and nods.

"You dodge the bat," he says. He rolls some more dice and then looks at me. "Steve, make _three_ Reflex saves, one for each bat."

12, 13, 8.

Leonard looks at my rolls and shrugs. "Good enough. You avoid the bats. Andy, make another Reflex save."

Andy frowns but rolls a die. 20.

"Not only do you avoid the bat completely, but you take a random swipe at it with your hammer and manage to connect," Leonard says. "Roll for damage–normal damage, not critical."

Andy rolls a 1. Leonard winces.

"The bat is disoriented and out of combat for a few rounds, but it'll be back in the air soon," Leonard says. "Steve, what do you choose to do?"

I look at my character sheet and frown. I only have three spells to use, and I'd like to keep them in my back pocket. On the other hand, I have the least amount of health and the most enemies.

"I cast acid splash to try and get the bats nearest me," I say.

Leonard nods. "Roll for success."

19.

"Okay, you manage to hit..." he rolls some dice "...all three of the bats. Roll for damage on each."

1d3, or half a six. I roll the dice and get a 4, a 5, and a 6–or a 2 and two 3s.

"All three bats are dead! Huzzah!" Leonard proclaims. "Aunt Grandma, your turn."

"Well I don't have much choice, do I?" Aunt Grandma says bitterly. "I try to hit the bat attacking me."

"Take a -5 penalty and roll," Leonard says.

Aunt Grandma does as commanded and gets a 15 (10). Leonard shakes his head. "You miss. Andy?"

"While the bat is dazed, I try to walk over to it and crush it under my foot," Andy says.

Leonard grimaces. "You're able to walk over there, but you can't step on it until the next round. Aunt Grandma, roll a Reflex save!"

They both roll dice. Leonard frowns and then looks over at Aunt Grandma's die. 7.

"How much is that with modifications?" Leonard asks.

"7," Aunt Grandma says.

"Then uh, you dodge. Barely," Leonard says. "Wendy, it's your turn. What do you do?"

"How many bats are left?" Wendy asks.

"The one attacking Aunt Grandma and the dazed one on the floor," Leonard says.

"I roll to attack the one attacking Aunt Grandma with my greataxe," Wendy says.

5\. Leonard shakes his head.

"You miss completely. Aunt Grandma, roll a Reflex save."

Aunt Grandma scowls at Wendy but does as commanded. 17.

"Success!" Leonard says. "Wendy's greataxe misses you. Steve, it's your turn."

"I try to fire a crossbow bolt at the bat," I say.

"Remember, you're at a -13 penalty," Leonard warns me.

I shrug. "I'm not worried."

I roll. 13.

Leonard rolls a die. "Wendy, roll a Reflex save!"

Aunt Grandma smirks. It's Wendy's turn to scowl. She rolls a 20.

"Success!" Leonard says. "Not only that, but as you duck Steve's errant shot, you raise your greataxe sharply and make contact with the bat flying between you three. Roll for damage!"

"Which–" Wendy starts to ask.

"Twelve-sided," Leonard quickly responds.

Wendy grabs the die and rolls it. 11.

"The bat is dead! Huzzah!" Leonard says. "Andy, it's your turn."

"Wait, I thought it was my turn," Aunt Grandma says.

"It is," Leonard says. "But you're not really in a position to do anything in this round, so I figured I'd let Andy go first."

Aunt Grandma shrugs. "Fine."

"So Andy, you were about to squish the last bat, right?" Leonard asks.

"Yeah," Andy says.

"Then roll your die!" Leonard says.

Andy and Leonard both roll. Andy gets a six.

"The bat tries to squirm out from underneath your foot but is unable to do so in time," Leonard says. "The bats are all now dead."

"So, what, was that the entire adventure?" Wendy asks. "A bunch of pest control?"

"No!" Leonard says. "Your adventure continues! You just have to figure out where!"

"Is it in the next room?" I guess, half-sarcastically.

Leonard bows his head. "It is..."

"And where is that?" Aunt Grandma prompts.

Leonard sighs. "There is a large archway leading to the next room at the end of this room. I didn't mention it because the bats were more important, but it's easy to spot."

"I roll a Perception check," I say. I roll a 19, and Leonard shakes his head.

"You sense danger in the next room," Leonard says. "You hear low growling, the sound of claws on stone, and see shadows near the edges of the parts of the room you can see. They don't seem to be by the entrance, but there's definitely something in there."

"Okay, I'm going in first," Wendy says. "Aunt Grandma, Andy, you guard the entrance. Steve, you stay back here. I ready my greataxe."

"You enter the room, followed by Andy and Aunt Grandma," Leonard says. "You see five wolves. Roll for initiative."

We all roll, and Leonard makes a few rolls of his own. Andy gets a 7, Aunt Grandma gets an 14, I get a 3, and Wendy gets a natural 20.

"Wendy, you get a double attack on your turn," Leonard says. "So what do you do?"

"I attack the nearest wolf with my greataxe," Wendy says. She rolls a 19. "Do I hit?"

"Yes, roll for damage with a d12," Leonard says.

Wendy rolls a 10.

"You chop the wolf's head off, and it dies," Leonard says. "You have another attack."

"I swing again at the next-nearest wolf," Wendy says. She rolls a 15.

"The wolf dodges," Leonard says. "Aunt Grandma?"

"Does the wolf approach the door when it dodges?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"I suppose so," Leonard says.

"In that case, I try to attack it," Aunt Grandma says.

She rolls a 3. Leonard rolls his die and winces.

"The wolf...impales itself on your blade," Leonard says. "It thrashes around but will soon die. Unfortunately, you can't do anything with your weapon until it does. Wendy, make a Fortitude save."

Wendy rolls a 16. Leonard nods. "You succeed. Andy, what are you going to do?"

"I try to attack the nearest wolf," Andy says. He rolls a 2 and grins sheepishly. Leonard shakes his head.

"You miss," Leonard says. "Steve?"

"I fire a crossbow bolt at whatever wolf I can see that's closest to the entrance," I say.

"Take a -5 penalty for a moving target," Leonard says.

I fire. 11, modified to 6. Leonard rolls a die and winces.

"You hit a wolf that's not very close to anybody," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

I pick up a d8 and roll it. 3.

"You hit the wolf in its stomach," Leonard says. "It's wounded, but not fatally. Wendy, roll a pair of Fortitude saves."

Leonard makes two rolls. Wendy does the same and gets a 17 and an 8.

"Do a 21 and a 12 save?" she asks sheepishly.

"One of them does, the other one doesn't," Leonard says. "One of the wolves bites your left arm and you take 2 damage. It's your turn now, though."

"I attack the wolf that just bit me," Wendy says. She rolls a 3. Leonard rolls as well and shakes his head.

"You hit it," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

Wendy rolls a twelve-sided die and gets a 3.

"The wolf is injured–not horribly, but it's bleeding," Leonard says. "You managed to leave a nasty cut down its side. Aunt Grandma?"

"I try to attack the nearest wolf," Aunt Grandma says. She rolls a 6. Leonard rolls as well and grimaces.

"You kick it," Leonard says. "Roll a d2 for damage."

2.

"It squeals as you hit it in its' stomach," Leonard says. "It skids across the floor towards Andy. Andy, roll a Fortitude save."

15.

"16," Andy says.

Leonard rolls and nods. "You don't take any damage, and it's your turn. What do you do?"

"What wolf is closest?" Andy asks.

"The one that just attacked you, that Aunt Grandma cut open," Leonard says. "What do you do?"

"I try to hit it with my hammer," Andy says.

Leonard nods and rolls. Andy rolls a 10.

"You hit," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

Andy rolls a d6 for 1.

"You hit it in the stomach, and the wolf squeals," Leonard says. "Steve?"

"I try to shoot the wolf that Andy and Aunt Grandma are fighting," I say.

"It's a bit stunned, so there's no penalty on this shot," Leonard says.

We both roll. I get a 19.

"Roll your damage," Leonard says with a small sigh.

6.

"You shoot the wolf in the chest," Leonard says. "The bolt pierces its' heart, and the wolf whimpers and dies. Wendy, roll another pair of Fortitude saves."

Wendy gets an 11 and a 5.

"Do a 15 and a 9 count?" Wendy asks.

"The first one doesn't, the second one does," Leonard says. "You take...3 damage when the wolf bites into your thigh. Your turn."

Wendy groans. "I try to hit the wolf biting me."

"Oh, it's not biting you anymore," Leonard says. "It just bit you."

Wendy scowls at him. "You don't know anything about wolves, do you."

"How dare you!" Leonard says, offended. "I'll have you know that I fought the dire wolves of Flozarnard Forest all by myself, and came out victorious!"

"Fine," Wendy says, annoyed. She rolls her die. Leonard does the same. "3."

"You miss!" Leonard cheers. "Aunt Grandma?"

"Can I yank my blade out of the wolf now?" Aunt Grandma asks.

Leonard tilts his head and thinks about it. "I suppose so."

"I do that," Aunt Grandma says.

"Andy, it's your turn!" Leonard says. "What do you choose to do?"

"I run forward like an idiot and try to hit a wolf with a hammer," Andy says.

Leonard rolls, and so does Andy. 16.

"You hit," Leonard says. "Roll for damage!"

Andy rolls a d6 and gets a 6.

"You smash the wolf's head in," Leonard says. "There is only one wolf remaining. Steve, what do you do?"

"I fire at it with my crossbow again," I say. "Are there any penalties?"

"It's on the move, so -5," Leonard says. He rolls his die and grins.

I roll.

19.

"Ooh...14's just not good enough," Leonard says, looking shaken. "Wendy, roll a Fortitude save."

"Oh come on!" Wendy shouts, annoyed. "Don't these wolves have anyone better to attack?"

"Apparently not," Aunt Grandma says. "Now roll."

Wendy rolls a 16 and grins. "20."

Leonard nods and rolls. "You take no damage. Your turn."

Wendy grins sinisterly. "I attack the wolf."

She rolls a 3. Leonard shakes his head. "You miss. Aunt–"

"I attack the wolf," Aunt Grandma says, already rolling. 8.

Leonard shakes his head. "Andy?"

"Same as the other guys, I attack it," Andy says. He rolls a 7. Leonard rolls and nods slowly.

"You hit," Leonard says. "Roll for damage."

Andy rolls a 3.

"Okay, the wolf is in bad shape, but it's still very much alive," Leonard says. He rolls a die. "Steve, you have to roll a natural 20 to hit."

I roll the die between my hands and let it go.

It falls on the table.

And comes up as a 20.

Everybody is silent for a few seconds.

"Okay, I did _not_ see that coming," Andy admits.

Leonard shrugs. "Any damage you do will be deadly, since that was a critical hit. The wolves are now all dead, and as you take a few breaths and try to regain your balance, you hear noises in the next room over. Looking at the doorway, you can tell that there are stairs and a balcony at the other end, and that there is a large table in the room, but you cannot tell what is going on in there."

"Okay, Wendy, what do we do?" Andy asks.

"Wh–me? Why am I in charge?" Wendy asks.

"You _are_ the one who has been telling us how to enter rooms," Aunt Grandma points out.

"Yeah, and you're the one who's been coming up with battle plans," I say.

"And you're the best fighter of all of us," Andy adds. Aunt Grandma glares at him. "In-game!"

Wendy thinks. "Okay. We'll all go in together, but Aunt Grandma, you take the lead. Steve, is there anything you can do besides fire crossbow bolts?"

"I have two spells left," I tell her. "I'd like to save them for when we need them, if possible, though."

"Okay then, let's go," Wendy says.

"You walk into the room and see that it's a large dining room with a huge dining table sitting in the middle of it!" Leonard announces. "Besides you three, you see that there are two other people at either end of the table. They are both beautiful women with pale skin, black hair, and red lips. Aunt Grandma, Wendy, and Andy, make two Will saves...and Andy, make yours at a -10 penalty."

"Hey, how come I'm penalized?" Andy asks angrily.

Leonard grins. "Because you wanted to seduce them."

"Hold on," I say. "Are you telling me that the woman back in the diner was some sort of vampire bride?"

"Goddammit, is this a vampire lair?" Aunt Grandma asks angrily. "Because I like to know these things in advance."

"Look on the bright side," Wendy says. "At least these things don't sparkle. Do they?"

"No, they don't sparkle," Leonard says, confused. "What kind of vampires sparkle?"

"The lame kind," I say. Everybody but Andy laughs.

"Okay, you know what?" Andy says angrily. "I have no clue what the sparkly vampire thing is, but it sounds like cultural elitism. Like you're so proud of yourself for not enjoying something that you have to mock those who enjoy it. As if liking certain things makes you superior to others. Well, we're all sitting around a table, rolling dice and pretending to kill vampires. Steve, you wear a lab coat everywhere. Aunt Grandma, you're constantly wearing suspenders and your name makes no sense. Wendy, flannel went out a long time ago, trust me. Leonard, _why are you wearing a fake beard_? And okay, I admit it, I fell for the whole Japanese rubber shorts thing once, but everybody was doing it. My point is, we all have things we should be ashamed of. But shaming other people for enjoying things we don't is just lame. Unless we're talking about Radiohead, because Radiohead sucks."

We all stare at him for a few seconds.

"Well somebody likes _Twilight_ ," Wendy says.

"What is that?" Leonard says.

"Look, I don't know what that is, but cultural elitism is stupid," Andy says.

"No, _those books_ were stupid," Aunt Grandma counters.

"They really were," I add.

Andy shakes his head. "Whatever, let's just play. Where were we?"

"Everybody but Steve was rolling two Will saves, and you were rolling at a -10 penalty," Leonard says. He rolls some dice.

They roll. Aunt Grandma gets a 19 and a 17, Wendy gets a 17 and a 14, and Andy gets a 19 and a 17. Leonard shakes his head.

"You all make your will saves," Leonard says. "Except for Andy. He's frozen in the doorway. Now everybody, roll for initiative!"

We all roll our dice. I get a 2, Wendy and Andy get 3s, and Aunt Grandma rolls a 20.

"Okay, Andy, since you're frozen, you don't get to attack," Leonard says. "Aunt Grandma, you can use your turn to approach a woman and attack. Which do you choose?"

"Which one froze Andy?" Aunt Grandma asks.

"The one on the right," Leonard says.

"I attack that one," Aunt Grandma says.

"Roll to hit," Leonard says, rolling a die of his own. Aunt Grandma rolls a 6, and he nods. "You miss. Roll a Fortitude save."

Aunt Grandma rolls a 17. Leonard nods. "You don't take any damage. Wendy, roll a Reflex save!"

Leonard and Wendy roll. Wendy gets a 7. Leonard frowns.

"You make your Reflex save," Leonard says. "This gives you an attack of opportunity on the attacking vampire, for +2 to hit and +1 damage."

Wendy rolls a 5. Leonard rolls as well and frowns.

"You hit," he says. "Roll for damage."

Wendy picks up the d12 and rolls a 5.

"The woman is wounded but not out of commission," Leonard says. "However, it's Steve's turn, and he has a clear shot at the vampire."

"I fire my crossbow," I say. I roll a 3, and Leonard smiles.

"You miss," he says. "Aunt Grandma, what do you choose to do?"

"I attack the vampire next to me again," she says. She rolls a 3.

Leonard rolls and grins. "You miss." He rolls the dice again. "Roll a Fortitude save."

Aunt Grandma rolls a 9.

"11," she says.

Leonard grins. "You fail your save. And you take..." He rolls a die. "1 damage when the woman grabs your wrist and throws you forward. You land on the ground and quickly get back to your feet, but the vampire is close to you. Wendy, make a Will save."

Wendy rolls a 15.

"13," she says nervously.

Leonard shrugs. "Good enough. Your turn."

"I attack the vampire trying to kill me," she says, and rolls a 4.

Leonard smiles. "You miss! Steve?"

"I shoot at the vampire," I say. Leonard and I roll, and I roll a 19.

Leonard frowns. "You hit. Roll for damage."

I roll a d8 for 6.

"Your shot goes through the woman's throat, tearing it open and leaving her unable to fight and soon to die," Leonard says. "That brings us to Aunt Grandma and her vampire, who are still at each others' throats. Aunt Grandma, what do you choose to do?"

"I slice at her throat with my blade," Aunt Grandma says. She rolls a 19. Leonard winces and rolls as well, and then nods at Aunt Grandma.

"You hit her," he says. "Roll for damage."

Aunt Grandma grabs the d10 and rolls a 4. Leonard thinks for a moment.

"Although you don't manage to slit her throat, you do slice through her face, blinding her in one eye and leaving a nasty scar," he says. "Now make a Reflex save."

Leonard and Aunt Grandma both roll. She rolls an 8.

"You miss," Leonard says. He rolls another die. "She tackles you and pins you down, and as your body hits the ground you hear some of your ribs shatter. You land very close to Wendy, though, so she'll have an attack of opportunity for +4 to hit. You take 3 damage. Wendy, it's your turn."

"Great," Aunt Grandma mutters. "Down to four health."

"I slice at the vampire," Wendy says. She rolls a 7. "Does 11 do it?"

Leonard rolls a die. "It does. Roll for damage."

Wendy rolls a nine.

"Your axe chops cleanly through her neck but you stop it before it can hit Aunt Grandma," Leonard says. "Both vampires are dead, and you know that there is only one possible way to go from here: up the stairs and onto the balcony. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you see a large set of doors on the other side of the balcony that circles the dining room. Somehow, you know that through there, your destiny waits."

He takes a deep breath. "You open the doors and see a large, empty room with one large, black chair in the middle of the room. As soon as you all enter, the doors slam shut behind you, and the chair slowly swivels around."

"It certainly does," a voice I've heard before but can't place says.

We all look over at where Chris was sitting. The back of the chair is still facing us, but I know that Chris left at some point. I think we all know that Chris left at some point.

The chair swivels around, revealing the person sitting there. He's clothed in black and his skin is blue. His mustache is long and sinister, and his eyes are black coals of heartlessness. This is the man who used Elise to trick me into working with him. The man who tricked Andy into working with him. The man who got caught setting up secret alliances and got kicked off for doing so.

 _Snidely._

"I heard you missed me," Snidely says sweetly. "I'm back!"

We all stare at him, shell-shocked, for several seconds.

"So, Andy," Wendy says from behind me. "Gonna roll to seduce this one, too?"


	39. The Indie Chick

**Enter...  
SNIDELY WHIPLASH**

Everybody stared at me in utter shock. And why shouldn't they? After all, they thought they had gotten rid of me. They thought that I had gone down all too easily, and that I wasn't a threat anymore. But they should have realized this wasn't the case. The villain _always_ comes back when he's _least_ expected. And so it was with me, coming back only to find that...

Well, nobody who voted me off was actually still in the game. That was a surprise, but I was just fine with that. It just meant that I had gotten farther than they did, and I didn't even have to get that far legitimately! Instead, I was placed in the final five.

I scanned the faces of my four opponents. Steve looked angry, Andy looked worried, Wendy looked upset, and Aunt Grandma just looked bored.

Wendy leaned over and nudged Andy with her elbow. "So, Andy. Gonna roll to seduce this one, too?"

Andy scowled. "I'm torn between laughter and projectile vomiting."

"I don't hear a no..." Wendy sing-songed.

"So, you've all probably figured out what's going on by now," Chris said from the doorway. Everybody spun to face him. "But, for those of you that haven't, yes, Snidely is returning to the game. And yes, he is actually the final monster you have to face. So, Leonard, wrap up this display of nerdity, would ya? I've got even more surprises to spring on these freaks, but I can't do that until you finish the game."

"Uh, yes," Leonard said. He cleared his throat. "So! You all come across each other, thirty feet away from each other! Everybody, roll initiative!"

We all grabbed dice and rolled. I got a 3, Andy got a 2, Aunt Grandma got a 4, Wendy got a 10, and Steve got a 16.

"Steve, you get to go first," Leonard said. "Remember, you're 20 feet away."

Steve shrugs. "I shoot him with my crossbow."

"Snidely, make a Reflex save!" Leonard said.

I grinned. With an additional six points added to my save for some reason, there was no way Steve would hit me.

Steve rolled a 4. I rolled a 19.

"Twenty-five," I declared.

"Steve misses completely," Leonard said. "Wendy?"

"I rush him to attack," Wendy said.

"You get within range to attack during your next round," Leonard said. "Aunt Grandma?"

"I rush him too," Aunt Grandma said.

"You're within range to attack during your next round too," Leonard said. "However, Snidely can now attack as well, or he can run away. Snidely?"

"I try to hypnotize Aunt Grandma," I said. "Oh, yes. She'll be totally defenseless."

"Roll to hypnotize, and Aunt Grandma, roll a Will save," Leonard said.

I rolled a 1. Aunt Grandma rolled a 17.

"Okay, not only did Snidely fail to hypnotize Aunt Grandma, he accidentally hypnotized himself and will be frozen in place for an entire round," Leonard said.

"WHAT?" I barked. There's no way I could have hypnotized myself! I'm immune to hypnotism!

Leonard shrugged. "Sorry, Lord Snidely, but you rolled a critical fail."

"I charge towards Snidely too," Andy said. "Do I get to attack?"

Leonard shook his head. "No. But Steve, it's your turn."

"What if I shoot him with my crossbow again?" Steve asked.

"You have +2 to hit since he can't move, but -2 for every one of the other adventurers in the way," Leonard said. "So you have -4 to hit overall, which means...you have to roll 14 or more to hit him, and a 5 or less means you hit a teammate."

"What if I cast Acid Splash?" Steve asked.

"You probably hit your teammates too," Leonard said.

"I shoot my crossbow," Steve said, rolling a 15.

"Roll for damage!" Leonard said.

Steve rolled an eight-sided die and got a 6.

"Huzzah!" Leonard said. "You hit Snidely in the chest, causing six damage to his immobile body. Wendy, since you're at close range and Snidely is immobile, you have +5 to hit, which means you only have to roll a 5 or better to hit," Leonard said.

Wendy smirked. "I roll to attack."

She rolled a 3.

"You somehow miss him completely," Leonard said. "Aunt Grandma, your turn. You also get a +5 to hit."

"I roll to attack," Aunt Grandma said, rolling a 16. "Twenty-one."

Leonard nodded. "Roll for damage."

Aunt Grandma rolled a ten-sided die and got a 2.

"Your blade cuts into Snidely's leg, opening a medium-sized gash," Leonard said. "He takes two damage, but can now move around some. Andy?"

"I attack," Andy said, rolling a 13. "Does that hit?"

Leonard nodded to me. "Roll a Reflex save."

I rolled a 16.

"Twenty-two," I said proudly.

"You miss," Leonard told Andy. "Steve?"

"I cast Acid Splash," Steve said, rolling a 14. "Does that hit?"

"Everybody but Steve, roll a Reflex save!" Leonard said proudly.

I rolled a 7. With my bonus, that made it 13. Wendy rolled a 15, Aunt Grandma rolled an 18, and Andy rolled an 11.

"Thirteen," I declared.

"Sixteen," Wendy said.

"Fifteen," Andy said.

"Eighteen," Aunt Grandma said.

"Everybody but Snidely succeeds at dodging the acid," Leonard said. "Steve, roll for damage."

Steve grabbed a normal die and rolled a 3.

"Snidely's skin is slightly burned, and he takes 2 damage," Leonard said. "Wendy?"

"I attack," Wendy said.

"Roll a Fortitude save, Snidely," Leonard said.

"Wait, why Fortitude this time?" I asked.

"Wendy's too close for you to dodge effectively," Leonard explained.

I grumbled but grabbed a die and rolled a 1. Wendy rolled a 3.

Leonard winced. "Ooh, critical fail. You'll take double damage from that. Wendy, roll for damage."

Wendy grinned. "With pleasure."

Wendy grabbed a _twelve_ -sided die and rolled a 6.

"Your axe bites into his chest," Leonard declared. "You almost chop through his heart, but barely miss. Snidely is still alive, but he's in serious trouble. Aunt Grandma, it's your turn."

"I cast Magic Missile," Aunt Grandma said.

"Wait, you can do that?" Steve asked, surprised.

"I _am_ an elf cleric," Aunt Grandma pointed out.

"Okay," Leonard said. "That will take Snidely into unconsciousness, and you'll all be +5 to hit him if you choose to do so. Aunt Grandma, roll for additional damage."

Aunt Grandma picked up a pyramid-shaped die and rolled it. It landed with the sides reading 1 all pointing up.

"Snidely sits at -1 health," Leonard said. "Andy?"

"I hit him with my hammer," Andy said. He rolled a 1, and Leonard winced.

"Your hammer slams into the floor next to Snidely and bounces back up into your face," Leonard said. "Roll for damage."

"Aw, man!" Andy said. He grabbed a normal die and rolled a 5. "I guess that means I take that much damage?"

"Yep," Leonard said. "Steve, your turn."

Steve shrugged and grabbed the four-sided die. "Magic Missile."

Steve rolled a 3.

"Snidely takes four damage," Leonard said. "Wendy?"

"I try to hit him with my axe again," Wendy said. She rolled a 12. "I take it that hits?"

Leonard nodded, and Wendy rolled a 5 with the twelve-sided die.

"You cut off Snidely's head and kill him," Leonard said. "Congratulations, brave warriors! You have defeated the vampire in the castle at the top of the hill! And none of you died, either. Truly, you are champions!"

"Enh, not so fast," Chris cut in. "If you'll remember, I said that I had more surprises to spring on you. So, here's the big one: there is no prize and no elimination ceremony for playing this game. Yeah. That's right. I just had you all waste a bunch of time playing a stupid tabletop game–"

"Villages and Vampires is not stupid!" Leonard said angrily.

"It's not stupid, and you're well respected," Chris said. "Anyway, this gets Leonard's lame challenge out of the way, gets Snidely back in the game, and gets me _another_ sweet paycheck. And this time, I actually got some lines. So! See you all tonight at dinner. Trust me, Snidely, you'll wish that you got to eat some of Chef's fantastic gaming group grub, because..."

Chris pushed a button, and the tables of food blew up. He laughed as everybody looked at the now evaporated food with shocked expressions on their faces.

* * *

So here I am, back in the game and not too far from the finale at last. It's a wonderful sensation, knowing that nothing can stop me now. Well, almost nothing. I still smarted from being kicked off the last two times.

The first time, I admit I was too clever. I let my hubris get the best of me and didn't shore up against the possibility that somebody might mount an effective resistance. But the second time was foolproof. There's no way I could have foreseen a betrayal. I don't know which one of my two companions betrayed me, but I assume it was Nazz. After all, the other option is Boris, and everybody knows that he'd never have the guts to turn on me.

Still, as much as it pains me to admit it, I need minions, cohorts, helpers. Of course, figuring out who to recruit is going to be troublesome, since I only have four options to choose from. I can take Andy under my wing, but he's fairly weak. Aunt Grandma is another option, but from what little I know of her, she seems dangerously psychotic. Wendy similarly seems psychotic, and I'm not sure she'd be interested in an alliance with me solely because I got her voted out, even though it makes perfect sense. Some fools hold grudges for no reason at all. And Steve is the weakest of them all. I can't fathom how he got this far in the game, and I'm sure that attempting to ally with him would be a fools errand. After all, he must surely be the best candidate for getting voted out.

Of course, nothing says I have to stick to any alliances I make. Since Wendy and Aunt Grandma seem to be strong players, all I need to do is get one of them on my side to kick the other one out, and then surreptitiously get the weaker players on my side so I can get rid of any competition. That will leave _me_ as the de facto strongest player in the game, and I'll be able to get wins from that point on. Of course, the troublesome part will be convincing the weak players to ally with me, but I can cross that bridge when I come to it.

So all I have to do is convince people to work with me. And what with how weak Steve is and how Wendy probably hates me for no good reason, even though I could provide her with _plenty_ of good reasons if I had the time, my options are pretty much Aunt Grandma and Andy. The good news is I was able to pull Andy into my alliance without much trouble last time, and Aunt Grandma should be just as easy to get to work with me. After all, it's not like her personality will win her any votes.

That seals it. I just have to find Andy and Aunt Grandma and convince them to work with me, and then I'll win this game, guaranteed.

* * *

I was on my way back to the cabins to find Andy when I happened upon Aunt Grandma. She was blankly staring into space while sitting with her back against a tree, but I figured that was good enough for me.

"So, Aunt Grandma, how do you feel?" I asked.

"When women committed seppuku, their specific form involved tying the legs together and then slicing open the jugular vein," Aunt Grandma said. She shook her head. "Oh, hello Snidely. What do _you_ want?"

"I want to make a deal," I said plainly. Nazz had pointed out that I took too long to get to the point, so I was going to trust her here and be straightforward. "Are you interested?"

Aunt Grandma raised an eyebrow. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm no less trustworthy than anybody else on this island," I said.

Aunt Grandma nodded. "Go on."

"I want you to team up with me," I said.

She smirked. "I can see what's in it for you, but what's in it for me?"

"Wendy," I said. "Wendy is one of the stronger players in this game–maybe even almost as strong as you. She's a definite threat, and if you both make it to the finale, it wouldn't take much to tip the odds in her favor. Wouldn't it be better if you got rid of the biggest threat among us?"

"And you think that's Wendy?" Aunt Grandma asked.

"Actually, I think that's you," I said. "Why do you think I came to you first?"

Aunt Grandma tilted her head. "So you want my help. What's in it for me?"

"I know that Andy will want to get in on this," I said. "He knows a good opportunity when he sees one, and with you and me onboard, this is the best opportunity available. With him on board, that's three easy votes, and you get rid of Wendy the instant she doesn't have immunity."

"And if she has immunity?" Aunt Grandma asked.

I shrugged. "Steve is dead weight anyway. He doesn't have any votes on his side."

Aunt Grandma smirked. "I like the way you think. I'm in."

We shook on it and I headed off towards the cabin Steve and Andy shared. I opened the door and found Andy inside, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall of the cabin. He jolted when he saw me.

"Hey, this isn't your cabin!" he said, sounding upset.

I chuckled. "Relax, Andy. I just figured I'd make a house call."

Andy looked around nervously. "What do you mean, a house call?"

I leaned against the doorframe and grinned. "I mean, I've got an offer you don't want to refuse."

"Oh no," Andy said. "No, no no. I am not getting involved in another alliance with you. No way."

"Why not?" I asked. "You need friends."

"I have a friend," Andy said. "And best of all, he's not you. Now get out!"

"Who, Steve?" I ask sarcastically. "Yeah, he's done real well. Got you into a final four with two really strong women."

"What are you saying."

"I'm saying that maybe Steve isn't as close to you as you'd like to think."

"Then what, he's using me as a pawn?"

"Yes."

"You already did that. Now get out!"

Andy got up and started walking towards me, looking like he intended to physically throw me out the door. I grinned at him.

"Don't be so uptight, Andy," I said. "If I had to bet, I'd say that Steve's been telling you how to vote and who to get rid of, right?"

"No," Andy said.

"Oh really?" I asked. "Then, if you don't mind me asking, who were the last two players to go home."

Andy stopped and thought about it. "Boris and Ruby."

I shook my head. "Really. Boris and Ruby. And yet, Aunt Grandma and Wendy got by untouched. Tell me, who was it who wanted to get rid of Boris and Ruby? It couldn't have been you, you're a smart guy. You'd know that you have to get rid of the strong players. So why not get rid of Aunt Grandma and Wendy?"

"You've got a point," Andy admitted. "So what, you think he's in league with one of them?"

"Yes," I said.

Andy crossed his arms. "Prove it."

I grinned at him. "Oh, I will. I will."

I slipped out the door, still grinning, and let it shut behind me. As soon as it closed, my grin disappeared. I had to find Steve and keep him well away from the cabin. Only then could I gain Andy's trust.

* * *

After about fifteen minutes of searching I found Steve whittling a piece of wood on the mess hall steps. Fortunately, he didn't see me, so I ducked into a bush and watched him.

And watched him.

And watched him.

Steve kept whittling for well over an hour. By that time, I felt that it had been long enough, so I slowly got up from my hiding spot, waking my limbs up bit by bit as I crawled away. When I was finally able to walk, I got to my feet and ran towards Andy and Steve's cabin, where I threw open the door with a loud noise. Andy, fast asleep in his bed, did not stir, but I swiftly remedied this by walking over to him and shaking him awake.

"Huh? What?" Andy said, blearily waking up. He saw me and screamed.

"Keep it down!" I hissed, covering his mouth with one hand. "I saw Steve at the mess hall. He was talking to Wendy."

Andy pushed my hand away. "Really. And you're sure they were talking about an alliance?"

"What else could it be?"

"I dunno, they could be...friendly...okay, fine. You have a point. But how are we going to get rid of Wendy or Aunt Grandma?"

I grinned. "Leave that to me."

* * *

Dinner was mostly uneventful. Andy and Steve sat together, so as not to arouse suspicion, but when Steve bent down to examine something on his plate, Andy winked at me, reassuring me that he was on my side. Apart from that, everything was mostly normal. Wendy was glaring at me, but that wasn't a cause for concern. After all, I had everything I needed in place to kick her out. There was no way I could lose this time.

Suddenly, the lights went out. While this might not have been unusual under normal circumstances, given the general run-down nature of the camp, the fact that the lights going out was immediately followed by a figure crashing in through a window meant that I immediately ducked underneath the table and began making plans to escape.

Before I could put any of them into motion, though, the lights came back on, revealing a redheaded girl of medium height with a flower in her hair, wearing a scandalously revealing top and very tight bloomers. She waved at us awkwardly.

"So, guys, hi, I'm Zoey," she said nervously. "Since like, there's no campfire ceremony, Chris is having me do something else. He wanted me to call it Christmas in July, but really, I'm just giving out stuff that'll be useful tomorrow. Sorry." She reached into the bag she had with her and pulled out a pair of nunchucks. "Wendy?"

"That's me," Wendy said. "Do I get those?"

"Yep," Zoey said, crossing the mess hall floor and handing them to her. I took this as my opportunity to get out from under the table and back into my seat. Zoey pulled out a baseball bat and looked around until she spotted Steve.

"This one's yours," she said, handing it to him.

"Gee, thanks," Steve said. "So uh, how are these things supposed to come in handy?"

Zoey ignored him and pulled out a slingshot. "Aunt Grandma?"

"They get blunt weapons, I get a slingshot?" Aunt Grandma asked, taking the weapon. "I guess it's better than nothing."

"Snidely?" Zoey asked, pulling out a cane with a huge diamond on the end.

I took the cane with a grin. "I take it the diamond is used to carve out people's entrails?"

"Uh, no," Zoey said nervously. "Sorry, it's just cubic zirconium. Sorry."

"Okay, but if I twist it, the cane comes apart to reveal a sword, right?" I asked.

"No?" Zoey said, sounding uncomfortable.

"But there's a hidden button I can press to release a hidden blade or turn it into a gun?" I said hopefully.

"Uh...sorry!" Zoey said, quickly walking away from me and over to Andy. She pulled out a crowbar.

"A crowbar," Andy said skeptically. "That's what I get?"

"Sorry!" Zoey said. "It's just what Chris gave me!"

Andy shrugged. "Okay. I guess I'll find a use for this."

"Uh, okay," Zoey said. She stood around awkwardly for a few seconds. "Well, bye!"

The redhead darted out the front door, leaving the left window shattered. Chef shook his head.

"Freaking Chris..." he muttered. "Comes up with that stunt, but does he help clean it up? No! That's Chef's job!"


	40. The Zombie Conspiracy Nut

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

Chef goes back into the kitchen, still grumbling, and comes out with a broom and dustpan. He walks over to the shattered glass on the floor, but then stops and throws the broom down.

"You know what? No!" Chef says angrily. "I'm not gonna clean this up!" He grins sinisterly. "One of _you_ is going to do it."

Oh shit.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?" he barks angrily. Snidely freezes in place, midway through sneaking out of the cafeteria. "That's right, you're on cleanup duty! And to help you, I'm choosing...Aunt Grandma! Yeah, you can help clean up."

After that there wasn't really any point in hanging around, so the rest of us finished eating quickly and left. Steve and I make it back to our cabin in silence, but once the door is shut, I decide to come clean.

"So, Snidely tried to start an alliance with me," I tell Steve.

Steve tenses up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," I say. "Dude was pretty insistent."

Steve groans softly. "Please tell me you didn't agree."

"Nah, I went along with it," I say. "Mainly because he was _really_ pushy."

Steve collapsed on his bed angrily. "So lemme guess, you want me to be part of this alliance now too."

"No," I say. "Snidely told me you were in an alliance with Wendy."

Steve sits up, shocked. "Wait, what? I'm–I'm not–"

"Yeah no shit," I say. "It's pretty obvious Snidely was lying about that."

"So..." Steve prompts.

"So, I figured I'd play along with Snidely and then we vote him out the first chance we get," I say. "There's no point in letting him stick around. You in?"

Steve grins. "Oh, yes."

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

After dinner, while Aunt Grandma was busy cleaning up in the kitchen from Zoey's weird entrance, I headed back to the cabin we shared. I didn't have much to do, though, so instead of sitting around in an empty cabin, again, I decided to climb up to the roof. I don't know why, but for some reason being up high kinda relaxes me.

Well, usually it does, at least. Tonight, not so much. I don't know why, but I was troubled by being given nunchucks. It wasn't just because I would've liked the baseball bat more, either. It was because, well, I don't know _why_ Chris would hand us weapons, but I know that nothing good could ever come of it. That's probably true of everything Chris does, but including weapons just made me more worried.

As I stared out into the distance, I found myself thinking about why Chris might give us weapons, and no matter how I tried to avoid it, I came to a single conclusion: we were going to have to fight each other with them. I had two problems with this. Firstly, I don't like fighting. Sure, I've done a lot of it in my life. Probably more than most people, really. But that doesn't mean that I enjoy it. Secondly, we had actual weapons to fight with. It was one thing when it was a boxing challenge and Aunt Grandma was just wailing on me with her fists, but I've heard the story of David and Goliath. I do _not_ trust her with a slingshot. And thirdly, I was given nunchucks. Even Snidely's cane would probably be easier to use.

At least I didn't get the crowbar, though. That's probably not going to be very helpful.

I don't know how long I had been staring off into the distance when I finally decided to come down. I do know that it was long enough for the sky to go from mostly dark to completely dark. Okay, so that's not quite true–there was a full moon, so it actually wasn't that hard to see, but you get what I'm saying. It went from the last bits of sunlight to moonlight while I was up there. So, since I figured I might as well get some sleep since we never know when Chris is going to choose to wake us up, I climbed down off of the roof and into the cabin, where Aunt Grandma was already lying in her bed, reading a book. She looked up when I came in.

"We need to talk," she said.

Shit. Nothing good has ever followed those four words. Trust me, I've said them and heard them plenty of times before, and they're _never_ followed with good news.

I sat down on my bed. "Alright. Go ahead."

"Snidely tried to rope me into an alliance with him to get rid of you," she said.

I shrugged. "And?"

"Well, he's put a target on your back and apparently thinks he has enough votes," she said.

I looked over at her. "Are you one of them?"

"He thinks so," Aunt Grandma said. "I'm planning to vote him off instead."

I nodded. "Serves him right for being creepy and annoying. But why do you sound so chipper?"

"Because if he _does_ have the votes, I'm safe, and if he _doesn't_ have the votes, I'm safe," Aunt Grandma said. "Either way, I'm in great shape."

I frowned. "Well, thanks for your empathy."

* * *

 **Enter...  
SNIDELY WHIPLASH**

I woke up at four in the morning. This wasn't something I chose to do, naturally. Instead, it was something I had forced upon me by the sound of air-raid sirens going off.

I stumbled out the door of the cabin in my nightclothes. Although I wasn't really awake at that point, I was at least more lucid than most of the other people. As we walked out into the pale moonlight, I spotted a young man waiting for us. His brown hair was ruffled and unruly, and he wore a green toque and an orange vest. He had the beginnings of a beard on his face, and he stared at us angrily.

"Not good enough!" he snapped. "You people call that being prepared for the zombie apocalypse? You've gotta be ready at any time, especially when you're _not_ ready!" He shook his head. "Now get your clothes on and get out here! I'm gonna get all of you ready to fight zombies!"

We all walked back into our cabins to get dressed. As I started to shake off the morning haze, I scowled. Whatever these zombies were, they didn't sound enjoyable, especially since I had to get up so early in the morning to learn about them. As I shrugged my cloak on, I pulled it tightly around me to help stave off the chill of the morning air and began to leave the cabin. Before I could walk out the door, however, I remembered what the strange redhead had done the previous night and stopped to grab my cane. It might just prove useful.

* * *

 **Enter...** **  
STEVE**

Apparently the first rule of zombie boot camp is that you have to be able to climb trees. Unfortunately, I'm not that good at climbing trees. I never really had a reason to learn how to climb a tree, and at this point in my life I'm not exactly supposed to practice tree-climbing. Plus, I'm a scientist. Or I guess a lab assistant. Either way, physical feats are not my forte.

If I'm being honest, none of us are doing that well. The only one of us who really knows how to climb a tree is Wendy. Aunt Grandma's not doing too badly either, but us three guys aren't getting more than a few feet off the ground. Which is a good thing, I suppose. If Snidely doesn't get immunity before the next elimination vote, he's gone.

Shawn shakes his head disappointedly. "I thought you guys could at least climb a tree! Okay, if you can't do that, everybody, get down here."

Everybody drops to the ground. Shawn looks at all of us.

"Okay, Wendy, good job climbing to the top. Aunt Grandma, you didn't do too bad either. The rest of you had better hope you're never in a forest and need to escape the zombies!" he proclaims. "So, let's try something new. All of you, you have five minutes to camouflage yourselves, okay? I'm gonna go away for a few minutes, but when I get back you'd all better be well hidden!"

As soon as he turns his back, we all get to work. Andy hides behind a tree. I jump into a bush. Wendy climbs back up a tree. Aunt Grandma yanks up some grass, dives underneath it, and hides herself in there. And Snidely simply wraps his cloak around himself and huddles into a ball.

When Shawn comes back, he declares "I said camouflage, not hiding!"

"But camouflage is a type of hiding," Aunt Grandma says.

Shawn stomps over to her and yanks her grass blanket up. "Number one, camouflage is a specific type of hiding. Number two, you gave away your hiding place. Number three: I know where all of you are. Andy, come out from behind that tree. Steve, get out of the bush. Wendy, get down from those tree branches. And Snidely, seriously, wrapping your cloak around yourself isn't fooling anybody."

We all come out of our hiding places and gather in front of Shawn. Shawn paces in front of us.

"You're all useless!" he says angrily. "You can't escape, you can't hide, you have pretty much no chance of surviving the zombies! I mean, I'm here to help you, but first you have to help yourselves, to survive the zombies! Right now, your best hope is that you're on an island. There's no way zombies can get to you here."

As Shawn rants, I look toward the beach. Several humanoid figures are lurching along the shoreline.

* * *

 **Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

If there was anything I had noticed about the toque-wearing stranger, it was that he was completely obsessed with zombies.

Maybe this was just his most obvious trait, but it was also his most annoying trait. Is there anything more pathetic than being obsessed with a fictional being? Honestly, his infatuation with zombies was insane, and his insistence that we had to be prepared just in case they attacked was the most obvious form of foreshadowing ever. So when some people climbed out of the ocean and onto the shoreline and started shambling up the coast, it was pretty clear that this was a fake zombie attack.

"You know, you could've at least finished training us before sending in the zombies," I told him.

The toque-wearer's eyes widened, and he spun around to look at the beach.

"Z-Z-Z-Z-ZOMBIES!" he screamed.

* * *

 **Enter...  
SHAWN**

I've been preparing for this all my life, and it's still taking me by surprise. I mean, now is most definitely not the best time. Stuck on an island, far away from my bunker and preparations and family–and oh god, Jasmine, is she okay? We were together just yesterday, before I left for this place, but maybe the zombies have already gotten her! No, no, that's crazy, Shawn, she's okay. She's a fighter, she's smart, and she listens when you warn her about zombies. Sometimes. When she doesn't think you're being a kookaburra. But she probably got away, and you can't do anything about that now. Calm down and figure out what you have.

Let's see. I have myself, my wits, and pretty much no weapons. I'll have to improvise those. I don't have any traps set–trap-setting was supposed to come later, when I was going to teach them how to build zombie traps and zombie defenses. Don't have any of those, either, except for the natural defenses on this island, and I don't know where those are. There are a bunch of trees, and zombies can't climb, so that's good, but I've also gotta figure out what to do with these five people. I've been pretty harsh on them, but they might not be completely useless. Wendy can climb, Aunt Grandma can hide, and Steve's probably got some brains–in a good way, not in an attracting zombies way. So the weak points are Andy and Snidely. I guess I can work with that.

On the other hand, these things are coming up from the water. That means that these things can go underwater. Or swim. Whatever, the point is that being on an island isn't as good as I thought. We're not isolated and we can't contain these guys. That makes pretty much every single one of my island strategies useless.

Okay, Shawn, think. You've gotta...okay, first you've gotta keep everybody from panicking, which is gonna be tough because you're barely keeping it together yourself, but you have to be strong here. Get everyone assembled, get them moving, and find someplace to hole up and devise a strategy.

"Okay, guys?" I say. Crap, my voice is shaking. "I don't want anybody to panic, but we've gotta run farther inland."

Andy snorts. "Yeah, sure. We _have_ to run."

"Yes, we _have_ to run!" I say urgently. Tone it down, Shawn. "We've gotta–gotta get away."

Aunt Grandma rolls her eyes. "Sure we do. It's not like this is a challenge."

"This _isn't_ a challenge!" I insist. "How crazy do you think I am? Do you really think I'd unleash z-zombies on the world?"

Snidely chuckles. "Okay, sure. Good prank, you got us."

"Uh, guys?" Wendy says. "I don't think he's joking."

"Of course I'm not joking!" I say frantically. "Those are real zombies, we're in real danger, we need to move! Now! Now!"

"Wait, hold on," Steve says. "If this isn't a drill, why were we given weapons?"

"You were supposed to train with them now let's go!" I say. We have to GO before the ZOMBIES eat our BRAINS! Why can't they see that? "So let's get moving before we have to use them!"

Wendy looks worried. "Um, actually, I think I left my weapon in the cabin."

* * *

 **Enter...  
CHEF HATCHET**

Chris is nuts.

This one isn't up for debate. I mean, I've worked with him for awhile, and I gotta say, the guy has gotten more and more twisted with each season. We've gone from challenges with extreme sleep deprivation to a challenge where they had to disarm a self-destructing island. Sure, that last one wasn't planned, but on most reality shows the first priority would've been to get _everybody_ to safety, not to save the island. So when you think about it, it's not that surprising that the Canadian government imposed some new...restrictions on the show.

The fact that one of those restrictions was making me give a so-called psychiatric evaluation to some of our more... _unusual_ past contestants wasn't the strangest part. That actually made sense, although I think they expected the studio to hire an actual psychiatrist instead of bumming the job off onto me. Still, I did it, and I think I actually did a decent job. Especially since in my notes on Shawn I explicitly stated that he should _not_ be put in _any_ situation involving zombies!

"Chris, you've gone too far," I say angrily.

"What do you mean, Chef?" Chris asks. "I just thought I'd spice up Shawn's zombie training with some actual zombies."

"I put it in the notes that we couldn't do anything with zombies around him!" I exclaim. "Why would you ignore that? You know the guy's scared to death of them!"

"Nope, not in the notes," Chris says. He hands me the file. "You can look yourself if you want."

I flip through it quickly. Everything seems to be in place, so Chris didn't remove anything. But somehow, I forgot to put in anything about making sure to keep him away from anything zombie-related.

"Well–I shouldn't have had to put it in there in the first place!" I tell him. "Anyway, we gave the campers weapons. Somebody's gonna get hurt."

Chris laughs. "Please. We just slapped some new coats of paint on the Chris-bots from Pahkitew. And since we can't afford to lose too many robots, everything behind them is interns. Nobody important is getting injured."

"Uh, Chris, remember all those restrictions the government imposed on us because of our 'unfair labor contracts'?" I remind him. "If any interns get seriously injured as part of a challenge, they can sue us now."

Chris suddenly looks afraid. If there's one thing he fears apart from the possibility of him being put in danger, it's getting sued.

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

So maybe it wasn't the best idea to take off for the cabins. And maybe it would've been a better idea to have brought the nunchucks in the first place. And I probably shouldn't have just ignored Shawn and taken off for the cabins anyway. After all, he _is_ the zombie expert. But if there's one thing I'd learned from living in Gravity Falls–well, actually, there were all _kinds_ of things I'd learned, with various levels of usefulness for dealing with zombies. Since we didn't have a karaoke machine, though, I was going to have to go with something my dad taught me.

Always carry an ax.

Okay, I don't strictly follow that rule. For starters, axes are _way_ too unwieldy to take everywhere. But a good hatchet will work almost as well unless you need to take down a big tree, and they're way more portable. So naturally I take one with me pretty much everywhere. Maybe not to school since they installed those metal detectors–and those totally aren't my fault, I swear, even if we did dare Thompson to sneak in and fill the principal's office with dimes. Dude got caught, obviously, but it would've been hilarious. I guess it still was, but in the 'Thompson gets in trouble for doing something stupid' way, not the 'principal has a freakout because he hates coins' way.

Anyway, I totally brought my hatchet with me when I got on this show, because I didn't know what I'd have to deal with, but I'd seen enough of Total Drama to know that things get dangerous around here. I'd never had any reason to use it, though.

Until now.

Well, okay, so I also practiced with it for the talent show. But mostly, I hadn't done anything with it. So when zombies attacked, I knew it was time to break out the hatchet and bust some heads.

So of course I took off for the cabin. Even if my nunchucks–which I didn't like much anyway–weren't in there, I'd still need my hatchet if we were going to fight zombies. What I didn't take into account was how close the zombies were, because on my way back a small group of five got into my way. Naturally, I swerved away, and when they tried to follow, I cut back. The zombies were unable to react in time, and I sped past them to the cabin, threw open the door, ran inside, and slammed the door shut. I then headed over to my bed and pulled out my nunchucks and my hatchet. I stood with them at the ready and grinned.

Until I heard something scratching against the door. I turned to look and saw three zombies trying to get in.

* * *

 **Enter...  
STEVE**

Wendy just did the stupidest thing possible. She left the group behind in order to charge into a pack of zombies. She did manage to avoid them for the most part, but now she's trapped in a cabin with five zombies scratching at her door.

Even though I'm pretty sure this is just some sort of challenge, I can't help but wonder if it's real. After all, Shawn seems pretty freaked out.

"Okay, she's dead, let's move!" Shawn says, sounding scared.

"We can't give up on her yet," Andy protests.

"Can, should, will, now let's get out of here before they come for us!" Shawn says frantically.

Suddenly, a rock flies past my head and travels all the way to the cabin, embedding itself in a zombie's head and knocking it out.

"What?" Aunt Grandma asks smugly, holding her slingshot. "I can't be an archery ace?"

"Can you do that again?" Shawn asks.

Aunt Grandma shrugs, loads another rock into her slingshot, and takes aim. This one takes out another one of the zombies. It also gets the attention of the other zombies, and they turn and start shuffling towards us.

"Crap," Shawn mutters. "Okay, now, we _really_ have to get going."

"What about Wendy?" Andy asks.

"We gave her a distraction, the rest is up to her, we can't just let the zombies devour us!" Shawn says. "Now c'mon!"

The door to the cabin swings open slowly.

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

I didn't have any idea why the zombies stopped clawing at my door. I did know that I wasn't going to waste this chance.

I pushed the door open and saw two dead zombies lying on the floor in front of me. At least, I assumed they were dead. I wasn't exactly going to check, you know? I just stepped over them. That's when I spotted three zombies heading towards everybody else.

It probably wasn't their smartest move, waiting for me, but I wasn't going to let them die because of it. So I took off running with my weapons at the ready. As I ran up behind the first zombie, I drew my left arm back and then swung it forward. The nunchuck did what I hoped it would, and the zombie's skull caved in and it went down. Before I could get my hatchet ready, I was onto the next zombie, so I cracked the nunchuck back the other way. It didn't hit that zombie as hard as it had hit the previous one, but that zombie went down too. This attracted the attention of the final zombie, who started turning back to face me. I was ready for it, though, and I changed my gait so I was running sideways. By the time the zombie got turned around, I was almost right next to it.

I swung my hatchet. It sliced cleanly through the zombie's neck. I didn't see where it fell, because I kept running until I caught up with the other five living people.

"So," I asked, panting heavily, "did you miss me?"

* * *

 **Enter...  
CHEF HATCHET**

Chris groans. "Tell me that wasn't an intern. _Tell me_ that wasn't an intern."

Chris is too scared to look at the screen, so I do it for him, getting a camera to zoom in on the decapitated body. There's no blood.

"No, I think that was just a robot," I tell him.

Chris lets out a sigh of relief. "Phew! I was worried there for a second."

"You being worried about somebody dying," I say. "Boy, that's gotta be a real change of pace."

"I know, right?" Chris says. "Usually I'm half-rooting for someone to die."

Like I said. Chris is nuts.

* * *

 **Enter...  
SNIDELY WHIPLASH**

This isn't something I often admit, but I had no idea what was going on. I was sure of one thing, though: all those people wanted to kill us. With my profession, I know what to do when that happens: you put a sign on the door saying not to open until Christmas, sneak out through the cellar, grab a ride on a banana boat, and lay low until you run out of rum or money. Well, I may not have had any rum or money, at least not at that moment, but I did know that Andy was a complete fool for trying to get us to wait for Wendy to come back. If I had my druthers, and I didn't, we would have lit out for Havana as soon as she left. Especially since I want her to lose the game anyway, and a quick death would work just as well as anything else.

Regardless, Andy kept us from budging, and somehow Wendy made it back to us. Still, that at least meant we weren't being held up any longer, and we were finally able to take off into the woods.

"So, these guys are definitely zombies," Wendy said as we ran into the woods. "Did you see how easy it was to knock their heads off?"

"I told you!" the young man said. "I told you they were zombies!"

"Yes, you were right, we believe you," Andy said sarcastically. "This totally isn't a challenge."

"You think it's a challenge? Fine! Then survive it!" the young man said angrily.

The young man in the orange vest sped up, leaving us all behind. We were already tired, and when his back grew farther away it had the opposite of the intended effect, as it spurred us to slow down. He looked back, saw us trailing, and circled back to us.

"C'mon, guys, we gotta move!" he said urgently.

I looked behind me. There wasn't anybody in sight.

"I think we lost them," Steve panted. "Can we–take a break?"

The young man in the orange vest looked around nervously. "Fine. We'll take a break."

We all collapsed to the ground, although we were all in positions where we could get up and run at short notice. The young man in the orange vest was the only one who stayed standing. He was on high alert, eyes twitching and looking all around for any sign of attackers.

Andy took out his crowbar and looked it over. "I can't believe I got stuck with a crowbar."

"Hey, crowbars are useful!" the young man in the orange vest said defensively. "If you need to pry a door open, or if you need to hold one shut, they're just what you need. Plus, they make a good blunt instrument in a pinch. They're basically the all-purpose tool for zombie survival."

Andy chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He got up and began swinging it around. "Yeah, I can see how this would be useful." He turned around and grinned at us. "So, anybody want to get mov–"

A zombie came out of nowhere and sunk its teeth into Andy's shoulder.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Andy screamed.

We all echoed his scream.

"HE'S A GONER, RUN!" the young man in the orange vest yelled.

"But–" Wendy started to say.

"He's been bit, it's too late to save him now!" Steve said urgently, taking off deeper into the woods with the young man in the orange vest. The rest of us followed suit, Wendy bringing up the rear and looking unhappy about it.

"Guys! Please!" Andy begged behind us. "Don't leave me! Don't! Please! Save me! Guys!"

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

Andy's cries receded into the distance as we continued into the woods. I hated having to leave him behind, but Steve was right. He's been bitten, and now he's just another zombie.

You know, I kinda thought I wasn't going to have to deal with this crap this summer. I mean, sure, it's always been background noise for the most part, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd have a more normal summer. Of course, that's a relative term, since my 'normal' summer involved a musical, a bank robbery, and a weightlifting competition, but at least there weren't any creepy gnomes or zombie invasions this time.

Well, until now. Now I'm running for my life from zombies, but this time I'm on an island in Canada, so I don't even have the advantage of knowing the territory well. Still, it seemed like we might get away until I heard Aunt Grandma suddenly scream and topple to the ground in front of me. I looked down and saw that a zombie's hand reaching out from underground had grabbed her. I pulled out my hatchet to help, but a group of zombies stumbled out of the bushes right next to us.

"Leave her!" Shawn commanded. "Just keep running! Go!"

I ignored my gut and kept going, leaving Aunt Grandma to her fate.

Behind us, she screamed bloody murder as she got bloodily murdered.

* * *

 **Enter...  
SHAWN**

Crap crap crap crap crap we're already down two people, including one that I thought was going to be better than the others at surviving. That's a full third of the humans that are left on this island, maybe even in the world. No, no, don't think like that, Shawn, Jasmine's fine, she's more than fine, she's great. You just have to get to safety, wherever that is, crap, I wish I knew more about this island but we'll just keep running uphill until...

Oh.

Okay.

So apparently there's a cliff here.

We're...trapped.

That's just _great_.

"Okay," I tell the three remaining survivors. "We're uh, it seems like we're stuck here, but we should have a decent lead on some of the zombies. So. Let's take a short break and then begin fortifications."

"Fortifications?" Snidely asks, sounding like he can't believe his ears.

"Look, if it was just this island, I'd want to set up fortifications to keep them quarantined here so they can't spread their infection and then swim away," I explain. "But from what I'm seeing, they came here from the mainland. That means that water isn't a guaranteed barrier against them. So we have to make our stand here, fight or fall. If we're going to survive, we have to stop running and start fighting." I dig a few cans of tuna out of my vest pocket and pass them around. "So. This stuff is full of protein. It'll give us the energy we need. Eat some and let's get to work."

"Why do you have that, anyway?" Steve asks.

"You always need to carry rations, just in case of a zombie attack," I tell him. How do people not get this?

"He has a point," Wendy says, digging in.

"Well how are we supposed to build fortifications, anyway?" Snidely asks, sounding annoyed.

I slap my forehead. "That's right, I was supposed to teach you that but we didn't have time because of the zombie attack!"

"Actually, I kinda have some...experience...with that...kinda..." Wendy reluctantly volunteers.

I grin.

* * *

 **Enter...  
CHEF HATCHET**

Crazy as Zombie Kid might be, he's actually not half-bad at the survivalist thing. I mean, he's got everybody working together, setting up traps and battle plans and getting ready to fight. I'd actually think he had a chance if Chris weren't grinning like a maniac and intentionally holding the robots back.

"Okay, why are you so happy?" I ask him. "Usually you'd have the zombies swarming all over them by now."

"I'm a changed man, Chef," Chris says as he takes a sip of his cappuccino. "You see, I've realized that constant chaos, while totally entertaining, doesn't always make good television. Sometimes, you have to let the players impose their own order on the game."

"Really?" I'm surprised. Chris usually isn't that nice. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," Chris says. "That way, it's more hilarious when it all comes crashing down on their heads!"

He starts laughing. Why am I not surprised?

"You know they're using real weapons, right?" I ask. "I mean, those robots didn't come cheap, man."

He shrugs. "Don't worry, Chef. I set it up so any extra costs come out of your paycheck."

He did what?

"YOU DID WHAT?"

* * *

 **Enter...  
SNIDELY WHIPLASH**

Adrenaline is very quick to kick in for me. It's a consequence of the business I'm in, you see. But adrenaline only lasts so long, and by the time the orange-vested young man had enough booby traps set up so that he could declare that we were set for the next ten minutes, my adrenaline rush had almost completely worn off. So of course, that's when we got attacked.

"They're coming!" the young man in the orange vest called from the tree. "Okay, like we planned! Steve, Snidely, you're the front line. I'll snipe from the tree, but you guys have to keep them from getting too close. Wendy, you watch our flanks. I don't want them to take us down like Aunt Grandma."

Shortly thereafter, the first wave started heading for us. Although the young man in the orange vest was able to fend some of them off with his slingshot and a lot more fell to the traps he and Wendy had rigged up, the attackers were on us quickly and Steve and I had to fight to fend them off. Although we fought valiantly, we were forced to back up, and soon we were behind the man in the tree. It was then that he leapt down behind us.

"Okay, run for it!" he declared.

"Run where?" Wendy asked frantically. "In case you haven't noticed, we're on top of a cliff!"

"Get to the very top of the cliff and then climb trees!" the young man in the orange vest declared. "If you can't climb, now's the time to learn!"

Well, I couldn't climb earlier this morning. But if it's a choice between death and climbing a tree, I'm going to make like a squirrel and scamper up one.

Or at least, that was the plan. We ran for it and got enough space that we could all clamber onto a tree. The man in the orange vest was the first one up, followed by Steve, then me, then Wendy. At least, I assumed that was her on my tail, although she stopped after a few feet to kick at the zombies. Of course, that's when I realized that wanting to climb a tree didn't mean I could. Steve was doing better than me, although not much better, but by the time my strength pretty much gave out, I was only halfway up the tree and nowhere near a sturdy branch.

I looked up at Steve, who was right above me. He was my last hope.

"Steve," I begged him. "Please. I can't hold on much longer."

Steve looked down at me with an impassive look on his face.

"Help me!" I asked. "Please! Just grab my arm! Pull me up!"

I reached my arm out towards him. Steve bent away from the tree, preparing to reach for me.

Then reared back and slammed his foot into my face.

* * *

 **Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

So, kicking at zombies didn't do anything. They just grabbed for my leg. So I decided it was time to get farther up the tree and hope that they couldn't climb.

I turned my attention back to climbing. The instant I did this, I spotted a black and blue blur hurtling toward me. Acting on instinct, I stuck out my hand and grabbed it. Unfortunately, this left me hanging onto the tree with both legs and one hand, only a few feet over the zombies.

At least we didn't lose Snidely, although whether that was actually a good thing is tough to judge.

"Oh, Wendy, you saved me!" he gushed.

"Uh, yeah," I said awkwardly. "So I did."

He scowled. "Did you see what that Steve did to me? He tried to–"

"Snidely?" I interrupted.

"What?" he snapped.

"If you don't want me to drop you, you should shut up."

Snidely immediately clammed up.

"Wait, do you hear that?" Shawn asked from above us.

Now that he mentioned it, I did hear something. Two engines, slowly drawing closer.

Suddenly, an ATV drove up to the top of the cliff and pulled to a stop next to us. Chris hopped off, grinning wickedly. Strangely enough, his left eye was swollen up and blackened.

"So, congratulations on surviving this long," he said. "But, seems like it's the end of the line for all of you, so...none of you win immunity!"

"Chris?" Shawn asked, shocked. "You released zombies on the world?"

Chris laughed. "Relax, man, they're just robots. And interns." He held up a remote and pressed a button, and the crowd of zombies below us instantly quit moving. "Redecorated Chris-bots from Pahkitew!"

I dropped to the ground. I was quickly followed by Shawn and Steve.

"So great job, guys," Chris said. "You all produced some great, zombie-fueled television. Almost makes me sad that one of you is gonna be sent home tonight. _Almost_."

I looked at Shawn angrily. "Really? I have enough nightmares already, and you have to do a zombie challenge?"

"This wasn't my idea!" Shawn defended himself. "Do you really think I'd unleash zombies on the world? Even robot zombies? Wait, robot zombies would be awful! Maybe even worse than regular zombies!"

Chef drove up on another ATV. Andy and Aunt Grandma were in the back of this one, and both of them looked perfectly fine, apart from a few bite marks. He hopped out and ran up to Shawn.

"Shawn, man, I'm so sorry," Chef apologized. "I had no idea he was gonna pull this. I woulda stopped him if I knew."

"So Chris decided to make me think the world had ended the way I always assumed it would, only I was far away from any sort of support network or safe place to hide?" Shawn asked angrily.

"Pretty much," Chef admitted.

Shawn groaned. "I should've expected that from him. Can you at least get me off this island?"

"Sure, sure," Chef said, escorting Shawn to the ATV. Andy and Aunt Grandma got out, and Shawn and Chef drove back down the hill.

"So that's that!" Chris said happily. "After all that worrying and survival, it turns out nobody gets immunity, and _everyone_ is on the chopping block tonight. Who will go home, and who will–"

"Why do you have a black eye?" Steve asked.

Chris scratched the back of his head. "Oh. Right. That. Uh, listen up, everybody! I have a very important announcement to make. I just wanna say, to everyone, that Chef is a super important part of this show. And because of that, we're not going to blame him if the show's budget gets a little...stretched. Plus, I've decided that we should totally double his salary, effective immediately. Yeah."

"But that doesn't explain–" Steve started to say.

"So! Tonight, we see five get reduced to four. Again," Chris said. "Who gets to stay, and who goes away? Find out, after we return."


	41. The Australian Outback Girl

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

On the plus side, nobody has immunity. On the minus side, nobody includes me. On the plus side, I'm probably not on the chopping block. On the minus side, that's only because nobody got immunity. On the plus side, I'm pretty sure everybody hates Snidely. On the minus side, I don't know for certain. On the plus side, he's not targeting me. On the minus side, he's targeting Wendy and that'll make me the next target in line, and if you try and tell me that he won't stab me in the back I have a bridge to sell you.

On the moon.

The long and short of it is that I'm not in a good place, but I'm not in a bad place either. Overall, it's pretty much neutral, which explains why when dinner rolls around, once again I pretend not to trust anybody. Though, if we're being realistic, I _don't_ trust anybody, and I'd want some time alone even if I did.

While we were dead–for lack of a better term–not much happened. We got dragged off by the robots for a bit and taken to some interns, who explained the situation. They had a few TVs set up so we could keep tabs on what was happening, and Chef had some screens in the back of his RV so we could watch as he was driving up there. What that meant was that Andy and I had a pretty much constant view of what was going on with everybody else, including at the end.

So Steve kicked Snidely in the face. Not that I didn't want to do that–several times just today, in fact–but I wouldn't have expected him to actually do it. He's been mostly meek and calm throughout this whole show, and the idea that he'd kick Snidely into what he thought was a crowd of zombies seems outright insane. Of course, he might not have believed that they were actually zombies, but I find that hard to comprehend since even _I_ was convinced we were under attack. Maybe it was just a case of mass hysteria, but I thought I was going to die when everybody left me behind. And even with that in mind, Steve hasn't seemed at all like the take-no-prisoners type who would do anything to win. That's me, of course, and possibly Wendy. Snidely might also fit into that category. But Steve has always seemed like a nice enough person. Or at least as nice as anybody on this island not named Ruby Gloom gets.

That's mainly what's troubling me. I thought that Steve was just this thorn in my side that somehow made it past the merge on luck and luck alone. After that, I figured he wasn't a threat at all. And yet, the fact that I was so wrong about his willingness to sacrifice somebody else...

What else could I have been wrong about?

* * *

About five minutes after we'd all finished voting and gotten down to the campfire, Chris showed up with a huge scowl on his face.

"Welcome to the campfire ceremony, where five become four!" he intoned sarcastically. "Where the drama is cranked up to maximum for everyone! Where everybody is interested in how things will play out! Yay!"

"Uh, Chris?" Andy asked. "Isn't there usually somebody else up here giving out the marshmallows."

"Yeah, there is," Chris said. "This year, at least. But usually, there's also at least some drama we can spin out of the campfire ceremony. Usually, there's a final two. But no, it just had to be a unanimous vote this time!"

"What do you mean, unanimous?" Steve asked.

"I mean that all of you voted for the same player!" Chris said. "I mean, the dude voted himself off, for Pete's sake. Which means that we're facing a five-nothing decision for who goes home tonight, and let me tell you, that one _majorly_ sucks. So yes, there will be a returning former contestant to give you four your marshmallows. But first, I just wanted to point out to all of you how much you suck for taking all the drama out of tonight."

"Why not just lie about the results?" Andy asked. "I mean, you've done that before."

Chris cast him a withering glare. "Dude, we save the lies for when we really need them. Like when we needed a way to keep Nazz in the game."

"I knew it!" Wendy exclaimed. "I knew you guys tried to keep villains in the game!"

"Uh, no duh," Chris said. "It's called 'Total Drama,' not 'Total Let The Nice Guys Win'. Seriously, you think that immunity card ended up in Heather's treasure chest by mistake? Or that Sierra just happened to save Alejandro when she blew up my plane?"

"Wait, you knew Sierra was going to blow up your plane?" Steve asked, surprised.

"Of course not, dude," Chris said. "That plane...it had so much of my stuff on there! Dude, that was totally, _totally_ not cool! But it did give me an excuse to ignore the votes and keep Al on, so at least _something_ good came out of it. Anyway! The only thing I've lied about today is the whole zombie attack thing, and technically, I never lied to you about that at all. You just drew your own conclusions. So, it's my...whatever...to welcome to the island, for the first time, that Aussie chick Jasmine!"

An incredibly tall girl with very dark skin walked up to the podium and waved to us.

"'Ello, Chris," she said in a thick Australian accent. "You know, 'ere's just one thing I wanna do t'night."

"Give out marshmallows?" Chris suggested.

Jasmine grinned. "No."

Jasmine drew back her fist and delivered a ferocious punch into Chris's previously uninjured right eye. When he got up again a few seconds later, it was already swelling up.

"'At's for messing wif Shawn!" she said angrily. "Never mess wif me mates, y'hear? And you don't mess wif Shawn, or else!" She turned to us with a smile. "Now let's get you your marshies."

Jasmine picked up a marshmallow and stared at us. She then began throwing us marshmallows.

"Steve. Aunt Granny. Andy. Wendy," she said calmly. "Snides, yer out."

"WHAT?" Snidely asked, shocked. "There must be some mistake!"

"No, not really," Wendy said. "None of us like you."

"Yeah," I added. "If you're going to set me up for a double-cross, you shouldn't make it so obvious."

"I know, right?" Andy said. "Besides, last time I got into an alliance with you, I got kicked out of the game."

"You tried to use me as a pawn via Elise and tried to turn Andy against me," Steve said. "I don't really see why I shouldn't vote you off."

"Wait!" Snidely said. "Hold on. There's no way all of you voted for me."

"Uh, sorry mate, they did," Jasmine said. "I thought ya knew. I mean, ya did vote for yerself."

"No I–" Snidely stopped. His eyes widened. "The vote must have been rigged! There's no way it could be unanimous! I would never vote for myself! Somebody tampered with the ballot box!"

"Please," Jasmine said, waving him off. "Even if some bushranger rigged the vote, there's no way they wouldn't get caught. And the producers would _never_ let a rigged vote stand."

That's when Chris broke into a laughing fit that didn't stop even after Snidely had been carried off by Chef and the rest of us had all left.

* * *

As I lay in my bed, trying to get to sleep, I thought about what the supposed unanimity of the votes could have meant. Maybe Snidely actually voted himself off, but that doesn't make sense unless he knew he was going home and wanted to mess with us. Maybe Chris decided to lie about the votes being unanimous when they were really four to one. Or maybe the votes were actually rigged.

I rolled over and punched my pillow. No matter what happened at the voting booth, today was exhausting. I needed a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I could tackle the question of what happened. But tonight...sleep.

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Wendy Corduroy: Snidely Whiplash  
Snidely Whiplash: Snidely Whiplash  
Steve: Snidely Whiplash  
Andy French: Snidely Whiplash  
Aunt Grandma: Snidely Whiplash

Final tally of votes cast:

Snidely Whiplash: 5


	42. The Psycho Hose Beast

_he leans against the wall, sucking on a cigarette. he exhales a smoke ring and strides confidently over to my car. i roll the passenger side window down, and he bends over to give me a good view of his mustache and bulging, exposed midriff._

 _"wanna go for a ride"_

 _"i do"_

 _he hops in the passenger seat and turns to me._

 _"so where do you want to ride me"_

 _not yet. not yet. not yet._

 _"lets drive around a bit and get to know each other"_

 _he leans back, making sure to give me a good view of his fishnet clad legs leading into eight-inch stilettos. i drive the car as calmly and carefully as i can manage. i know a place with soundproof walls and concrete floors._

 _soon._

 _soon._

 _soon._

 _"so what's your name, sugar?"_

 _i ignore him. just in case he slips away. not that anyone would believe him if he tried to tell them that a pillar of the community hired him, dragged him to a crappy part of the city, and tried to kill him._

 _"not talking, eh? i can respect that"_

 _obviously not if he doesn't shut up._

 _"so...you want to discuss payment before or after?"_

 _it doesn't matter since he won't collect anyway._

 _"i was thinking–"_

 _a semitruck screams into the intersection, running a red light, and slams into my car. it goes flying, and the door buckles in on me, pinning me to my seat. somehow we land upright, but i can't do anything as he throws open the passenger door and steps out._

 _"hey, i was with a client!" he complains to whoever's driving the semi_

 _"shut up and get in she wants to kill you"_

 _goddammit i lost him again_

 _i lost him again_

 _lost him again_

 _him again_

 _him_

 **Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

I woke up at six in the morning, and it didn't take long for memories of yesterday to filter in. More specifically, memories of what happened at the campfire ceremony. I still couldn't figure out what was going on, and it was starting to trouble me. I knew that there was something that wasn't quite right, but I couldn't tell exactly what it was.

There were three possibilities, of course. Possibility one: the vote wasn't actually unanimous and Chris lied about it to rile us up again. On the one hand, it sounds like something he might do. On the other hand, he hasn't misrepresented a vote involving actually kicking someone off. That I know of, that is. So maybe Chris lied to us, but I don't know. Something about that possibility doesn't quite seem true. It's just a gut feeling I have, but I trust it.

Possibility two: the vote was actually unanimous because everybody voted for Snidely, including Snidely. That doesn't make any sense unless Snidely knew he was going to get voted off and was gambling on being able to make everyone trust the game itself less. I don't really think he'd do that, though, even if he knew I was going to betray him. And I have to say I did a pretty good job of pretending I was going to vote with him. It'd be strange if he saw through me.

So that leaves one last option: somebody rigged the votes so that the vote came out unanimous. It's not that hard to believe it could be done, although I'd expect Chris to say something about it. Then again, his laughing fit after Jasmine suggested he'd do something about it says otherwise. Combine that with the fact that it wouldn't be _that_ hard for somebody to break into the box, and it's actually not that unbelievable–although I don't know how the culprit would cover up the break-in.

That means that either it got covered up and nobody noticed, or whomever was last through the door pulled it off. All I have to do is figure out what order everybody voted in.

So let's see. I know that I went in after Andy, and I know that Steve and Snidely went in before him, since I arrived just as Snidely was leaving the booth, and that's when Steve went in. And when I got to the campfire–Wendy was already there. Crap. So by the time I voted for Snidely, the box had to have already been broken into, but I didn't notice anything different. Which means I'm back to square one. Either Chris lied, Snidely voted for himself, or somebody rigged the box–but if Snidely didn't vote for himself, and I didn't rig the vote–and I didn't–then either Andy or Steve was the one who changed the votes. But why? I mean, if they could see the ballots, they should know that Wendy was voting for Snidely. And they're working together, or at least I thought they were. So why wouldn't they just vote Snidely off legally and leave the ballots untouched? No, Chris had to be lying to us. So why didn't that option sit right with me?

By then, I wanted to give up on thinking about it. I also knew that my mind would keep spinning as it tried to figure out what happened.

If there was any day when I couldn't wait for the challenge to start just so I could get my mind off of the game–and how much of an oxymoron is that?–it was today.

* * *

By the time breakfast rolled around, my mind was still stuck in a rut. To make things worse, we hadn't seen Chris at all and Chef was basically growling at everybody and hiding in the kitchen. Plus, Steve and Andy were eyeing each other with suspicion, but that didn't prove anything, since everyone was eyeing everybody else suspiciously, including and especially me. And of course, on top of all that, the food was as horrible as it usually is, so I wasn't enjoying my breakfast even before it blew up in my face.

As I wiped my breakfast away from my face, I saw everybody else in the room staring at me. That was, of course, before their food blew up on them too, followed by a random chair and the fireplace exploding. When the chaos finally died down, we all saw an orange-haired girl standing in the middle of the room, cackling madly.

"¡Yo soy Explosivo! It is very nice to meet you!" she said happily before giggling madly. "And today, is a day of two things. Boom, and boom!"

Explosivo laughed insanely before backflipping out of the cafeteria. Steve groaned.

"Great," he said. "We get Izzy today."

* * *

We all left together ten minutes later. Izzy was already waiting for us outside. She was standing next to two explosive plungers. Steve froze in his tracks when he saw her.

"Uh, Izzy–" he started to ask.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Izzy said. "Izzy isn't here right now. You are talking to...Explosivo!"

"Explosivo," Steve said nervously, "what are those hooked up to?"

She cackled madly. "Oh, you don't need to know."

"I don't like the sound of that..." Steve said.

Explosivo waved him off, pulled an apple out of her pocket, and took a big bite. As she chewed, she threw the apple behind her, and when it landed it caused a small red explosion.

"...what was that?" Andy asked.

Explosivo cackled. "Everywhere from here to the beach has been specially set up by Explosivo! There are four routes to the beach, but guess what happens if you miss your step even once?"

"Boom boom?" Steve guessed unhappily.

"Boom boom!" Explosivo declared. "Now find your way, and try to step on some explosives!"

Explosivo threw a map to each of us.

"Uh, don't you mean try _not_ to step on any explosives?" Andy asked.

"Nope!" Explosivo said cheerfully.

I unfurled my map. Not only was the path marked winding and circuitous, but there were no landmarks of any kind to show where to enter, exit, or turn.

"Okay, how are we supposed to–" I started to ask.

"Ssh!" Explosivo said, grinning at us.

Steve shrugged and took a step forward. A bomb exploded underneath his foot, showering him with blue paint. Wendy did the same thing and got splattered with red paint. Andy and I looked at each other, stepped forward, and got splattered with yellow and purple paint, respectively. Explosivo laughed at us.

"Okay, okay, that was fun," she said. "C'mon, I'll lead you around the bombs to the beach so we can get started on the _real_ challenge."

"Wait," Wendy said. "What was the point of this in the first place then?"

"To get you splattered with paint, duh!" Explosivo said. "Now c'mon, let's go!"

* * *

After about twenty minutes, we finally arrived at the dock. Chris was waiting there with his back to us, but turned around when he heard us step onto the dock, revealing that both of his eyes were swollen shut.

"Izzy? Is that you?" he asked. Nobody answered, and he groaned. "Great. When's she going to get here, anyway? We're on a schedule! I have a show to do, she has a challenge to run...when's she gonna show up?"

"She's here, actually," Steve said. "But she's going by Explosivo."

"Boom-boom!" Explosivo said excitedly.

Chris groaned. "Great. So I've been waiting out here for no reason?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a new voice said.

Our attention was drawn to the end of the dock, where a boat had pulled up seemingly out of nowhere. A young man with facial piercings and a green mohawk hopped onto the end of the dock with a grin on his face.

"Oh come on, what are you doing here?" Chris asked angrily. "You already had your campfire ceremony!"

"He's my lovely assistant!" Explosivo said proudly.

The punk nodded. "That's right, Chris. Did you really think you could keep me off the show? I'm a fan favorite."

"You're not allowed to return!" Chris complained. "You're too unstable!"

"Actually, no, Chef cleared me to return," the punk said.

"Kinda regretting it now," Chef admitted. "Of course, not as much as I'm regretting letting Izzy come back."

"Oh, c'mon, Cheffy, you know you missed me!" Explosivo said happily.

Chef raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, and I gotta say, I don't like being kept off the show after I got cleared to return," the punk said. "I mean, being kept out because you've got some stupid grudge against me? Not cool."

"You blew up my cottage!" Chris said angrily. " _That's_ not cool!"

The punk changed the subject. "Why are your eyes swollen shut?"

"No reason!" Chris said. "Just–Izzy, just start the challenge!"

Explosivo completely ignored him. Chris sighed.

"Izzy, get _Explosivo_ to run the challenge," he said.

Explosivo snapped to attention. "Right! So, today's challenge is to make...boom-boom!"

"Do we at least get some toilet paper?" Andy asked. He chuckled.

"Nope!" Explosivo said. "You make the more fun type of boom-boom! The one that Explosivo is a master of!"

"Where are we going to find explosives?" I asked.

Explosivo grinned. "Oh, you're going to make them!"

"Nope!" Chris said. "Nope! Nope! Nope! That'll get everyone involved put on watchlists in several countries if we broadcast how to improvise explosives. And we'll probably be banned. So no. Different challenge."

"For once, I agree with Chris," Duncan said. "I'm not exactly in a hurry to go back to prison."

Explosivo sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. Give me an hour."

* * *

After about an hour, Chef rounded us up and brought us down to the beach, where a volleyball net and a makeshift court had been set up.

Andy scoffed. "What is this, the swimsuit episode? We're gonna play beach volleyball now?"

"No, that'd be silly!" Explosivo said. "Everybody, pick a corner."

I stepped into one corner. Everybody else found one too.

"This, is the playing field!" Explosivo said. "Nobody gets to step off, or they're disqualified from immunity. But don't worry! Duncan and Explosivo will be in these high chairs."

"I hesitate to ask, but doing what, exactly?" Steve asked.

Explosivo's grin grew almost impossibly wide. "We'll be throwing lit explosives at you! Starting...now!"

 _"you have to be perfect priscilla"_

 _"if you're not perfect, what are you?"_

 _"i can't believe this"_

 _"you got caught shoplifting"_

 _"priscilla how could you get caught?"_

 _"if you had to steal you shouldn't have gotten caught"_

 _"honestly if something's worth doing it's worth doing right"_

 _"next time remember not to leave any evidence behind"_

 _"priscilla we are very disappointed"_

I blinked. A stick of dynamite was hurtling towards my face. Acting mostly on instinct, I grabbed it and threw it away. I saw Explosivo and the punk throwing explosives at us, and decided to get to work.

As I raced around the side of the net I shared with Andy and tossed the explosives out of the playing field, I realized that I knew the answer to the problem that had been troubling. I knew that the vote was rigged. And I knew who rigged it. It was so obvious, the most shocking thing was that I hadn't realized it earlier.

Steve.

It had to be Steve. It was always Steve. He had to have been pulling this scam since the beginning. Ruby had asked us all to vote for her, and most of us would have done as she asked. Not just because she was likable, but because we all thought she wanted to be voted off and we were willing to do that. There was nobody universally hated on our team, ever, until Ruby was kept on. And she was kept on because Steve kept changing the votes. As soon as she got the chance to leave, she took it. And she only got that chance when the elimination _wasn't_ done by vote.

I didn't understand why Elise was kicked off first. Marlowe didn't make much sense either. But if Steve was trying to make the rest of the game easier for him, no wonder he shoved them out first. I probably only escaped because my foolish teammates didn't recognize my potential the first time around and decided to get rid of me early. And since then, he's only been able to kick off Nazz and Snidely, since Ruby and Boris got removed instead of being voted off.

"Oh, c'mon!" Explosivo complained.

I looked up. Apparently our two tormentors had run out of ammunition.

"Fine," Explosivo said, sounding annoyed. "I didn't want to do this–no actually, I really did, since it's gonna be fun. So! Everybody! Come with me!"

* * *

Explosivo and the punk took us back to the two plungers standing near the mess hall.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Explosivo chirped. "And now? Now it's finally time! Time...for you to choose! What will go boom-boom?"

"What are our options?" Steve asked.

Explosivo grinned and gestured to the plunger on the left. "This one, creates boom." She gestured to the one on the right. "This one, creates boom. You put them together, and you get?"

None of us responded.

"Boom boom?" the punk finally said.

"Yes!" Explosivo said. "Finally! I thought nobody would get it."

"No, that one was pretty obvious," Andy said.

"Yeah, we just think you're completely nuts and don't want to play along," Wendy added.

The punk shook his head and snorted. "Are you guys like this with everyone?"

"Pretty much," we all said in unison.

"You try spending two seasons with Chris and see if you don't get a bit jaded," Andy added.

"Two?" the punk asked. "Try _four_. And I got thrown in prison for it."

"Well, you did blow up Chris's cottage," Explosivo said. "Good job on the boom-boom, though!"

"Thank you, but I thought it was more of a mansion," the punk said.

Explosivo shook her head. "No. Nonono. Trust me, Explosivo knows what a mansion is, and Chris McLean can't afford one."

"Anyway, I spent four seasons on this show, not counting this one, got thrown in prison for it, and then had to get psychologically evaluated by Chef to see if I could come back on," the punk said.

"Ooh! Izzy had to get evaluated too!" Explosivo said.

"Wait. Hold on. Chef's a psychiatrist?" I asked. There's no way he's trained to do that.

"And a good one, too!" Chef barked from the kitchen.

"Chef!" Explosivo said happily. "Why are you in the kitchen?"

"I got food to make!" Chef yelled back.

"That's debatable," the punk said.

"Shut it, rock star!" Chef barked. "I got work to do!"

"Again, debatable," the punk said.

Chef angrily slammed the kitchen window closed. Explosivo grinned.

"I like him," she said happily. "It's so much fun to make him angry, like grr! And he's so angry all the time, it's funny." She laughed. "Anyway. All of you, choose what should go...boom-boom!"

We all huddled up to make a choice.

"I think we should choose the one on the right," Wendy declared instantly.

"Whose right?" Andy asked. "Ours or hers?"

"Ours, duh!" Wendy said.

"Hold on," Steve said. "Picking the one on the right is the obvious choice. She probably _wants_ us to pick that one."

"I dunno," Andy said. "Maybe she thinks we'll pick the one on _her_ right."

"Look, does it matter?" Wendy asked. "We don't really know either way."

"Which is why we have to figure out what kind of mind games she's playing with us," Steve said. "Trust me, she has an IQ of 188 and she's crazy. She's definitely playing games with our heads."

"And you think it's on the left?" I asked.

"I think that's the better bet," Steve said.

"I think you're wrong," I said. "Of all of us, you're definitely the least normal mentally."

 _"your daughter shows symptoms of sociopathy and narcissism in addition to some unaddressed anger issues"_

 _"that's ridiculous our daughter is perfectly well-adjusted"_

 _"i'm just telling you what the tests say, sir"_

"Look, Steve, we don't know, right?" Andy asked.

"I guess..." Steve said reluctantly.

"Okay, so, let's go with a majority vote. Left box?" Andy asked.

Steve put his hand in the air.

"Right box?" Andy asked.

Wendy and I put our hands up.

"Right box it is," Andy said.

We turned around to face her.

"The one on the right," Andy said.

"Your right, or my right?" Explosivo asked.

"Our right!" I snapped. "We had a vote, and Wendy and I both agreed."

Explosivo sighed. "Fine. Duncan, you get to do the honors."

The punk grinned. "By the way, you owe me fifty bucks."

"What for?" Andy asked.

"She bet me that the girls _wouldn't_ make the dumb choice," the punk said.

The punk pushed down on the plunger. In the distance, something exploded.

Explosivo laughed madly. "Once again, Explosivo does his job correctly!"


	43. The Jock

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

Chris popped up, seemingly from out of nowhere. "I heard explosions. What got blown up?"

"The chicks' cabin," Duncan said calmly.

Chris laughed. "Nice."

"Hold on," Aunt Grandma said calmly. "Are you telling us you blew up our cabin?"

"Of course!" Izzy said. "Explosivo is muy loco for boom-boom!"

Aunt Grandma went stock still and all the color drained out of her face.

"So, you guys–" Chris started to say to the mess hall

"We're over here," Steve said helpfully.

Chris spun around. "I knew that. I was just testing you. Yep. Anyway, girls, because your cabin's been blown up, you'll be moving into the unused other side of the cabin Steve and Andy are in. Not to worry though, because Steve, Andy: one of you will win immunity tonight. But, in a shocking twist, it's gonna come down to a popular vote. Yeah. Bet you didn't see _that_ coming! Who will the girls favor? Find out when we come back, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

It didn't take us long to move in to our new room. Of course, there wasn't anything left to move. Izzy's explosives had completely razed our former cabin to the ground.

Aunt Grandma grumpily plopped down on her bed and swore at the ceiling. I felt exactly the same way. Everything we had brought with us to the island had just been destroyed, including my hatchet, some letters from home, and every book I brought along for entertainment. Izzy hadn't just wrecked our place to live and our stuff–she'd ensured that the rest of our stay here would be incredibly boring. Which was probably the plan, honestly. The only way to get rid of our boredom would be to talk to each other, and we all hate each other. Chris probably asked Izzy to blow up one of the cabins to force us into boredom-related stress or hatred-related stress.

Although, if I'm being honest, most of this is kayfabe anyway. Steve's kinda strange, but not that bad a person. Andy seems like a skeeze, but he's not really threatening, just a bit of a creep. And Aunt Grandma's pretty unlikable, but I have to admit her strategy has gotten us to the final four twice, so I'm willing to go along with the plan of seeming like we hate each other.

On the other side of the cabin wall, I heard a door shut. As soon as it did, Aunt Grandma got up and walked over to me quickly.

"We need to talk," she hissed.

"About what?" I asked.

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed.

"What do you want?" I whispered.

"Right. So. You know how last night's vote was unanimous?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "That was just Chris messing with us."

"No, I don't think it was!" Aunt Grandma whispered. "I think that it actually was a unanimous vote."

"Please. For that we'd have all had to vote Snidely off. Including Snidely."

"Well who'd you vote for?"

"Snidely, like you said."

"Yeah, and from what I heard from Steve and Andy, they voted for Snidely too."

"So?"

"So, that means that the vote was rigged."

"Or Chris was messing with us. C'mon, do you really think he was telling the truth?"

"Yes! Because the vote was rigged!"

"By Chris?"

"By Steve!"

Now Aunt Grandma had my attention. She really thought Steve had rigged the votes?

"And I think he's been rigging the votes all game," she continued, still whispering. "Think about it. Ruby wanted to go home the whole time she was on the island, but she was kept on the island even though I kept voting for her. And she had to be voting for herself, because once she was given the opportunity to go home outside of a vote she took it. Which means that there were always two votes against Ruby. Add in that everybody else said they were voting for Ruby, and even if everybody's lying as soon as it's down to four people that means that Ruby's in a tiebreaker. And that's assuming that whoever got voted out third by our team–I think it was Dale–voted for himself. Which makes no sense! So obviously the vote was rigged throughout the whole contest. Steve has been setting the whole thing up so he'll go all the way by rigging the vote whenever he can!"

I sat back and thought about it. Aunt Grandma might've had a point. I didn't know how everyone got eliminated, since we didn't get to see the tapes, but Elise being the next one off the island had been pretty weird. I didn't know her very well, but I knew that she was a strong player, and kicking her off early would hurt her team. Then again, that didn't stop Snidely, Nazz, and Boris from getting rid of me first. Still, Marlowe's a pretty cool chick, so her being the next one kicked off didn't really make sense. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense for Steve to have rigged the vote. And it helped explain why we were still here: he wanted to get rid of Nazz, and then didn't have any more opportunities to get rid of someone until Snidely came along.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We need to figure out how to kick Steve out," she said. "But first, we need to figure out who to give immunity to tonight."

"That's easy," I said. "Andy."

"I think Steve would be better," she said.

"What? If Steve gets immunity, that's a ticket to the final three! Probably even the finale if the winner of the final three gets to choose who to go up against!"

"Well..."

"Are you really expecting me to believe that you'd choose to face me over Steve?" I asked her bluntly.

She made a face. "Point taken. But if Steve has immunity, he won't be so worried, and it'll be easier for us to get rid of Andy."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we'll have to make sure he goes in ahead of us during the vote," she said. "That way, he can't cheat, or at least can't steal our votes."

"Yeah, but he's still on the island!" I argued. "He still gets everything he wants!"

Aunt Grandma put her hands up placatingly. "Okay, look. Why don't we each argue the other side?"

I blinked. "What?"

"I'll argue for giving Andy immunity, you argue for giving Steve immunity," she explained. "That way we don't get stuck in a rut just thinking our own side is right."

I thought about it. Her proposal actually made a lot of sense.

"Okay," I said. "Who goes first?"

"How about you?" she suggested.

"Sure," I said.

I had no clue what I was going to say about giving Steve immunity. I mean, it was pretty clear-cut. If Steve had immunity, he'd get to the final three, and then probably to the finale. If I got to choose who to take to the finale, I was going to take Steve, right? I mean, he'd be easier to defeat than Aunt Grandma. And I wouldn't say no to an easier matchup even if Steve cheated his way there, right?

Shit.

I'm going to do the right thing if I'm in that situation, aren't I?

Sometimes being a decent person sucks.

Still, I had to come up with an argument for giving Steve immunity.

"Okay," I said. "So, Steve's trying to cheat his way to winning it all. That's true. But Steve isn't as smart as he thinks he is. If he can get himself and Andy to the final three, that's a problem, but if he can only get himself or Andy to the final three, it's pretty obvious who's getting that far, and it's not Andy. So, once Steve is in position to make it to the final three, he's probably not going to fight for Andy to make it that far and he won't resist us as much if we try to make sure Andy goes home. I mean, if Steve's in line ahead of all of us, he can't really stall, right? But he's definitely going to do whatever he can if he's on the chopping block. But if we give him immunity, he won't work as hard to get Andy through and he might even think of us as possible allies. Plus, as you said, we can team up to shut him out in the final three if that seems like the best choice."

Aunt Grandma grinned. "Good points. But Andy might be a better choice. If we vote for Andy to get immunity, that puts Steve in a tough position. On the one hand, if he manages to make it to the final three, he holds the advantage over whichever one of us doesn't get eliminated. But he also has to face off against both of us, and we'll be fighting to get rid of him. On top of that, it allows us to make the final three the real fight, and then it's the best woman against Andy. All in all, Andy is the better choice for immunity."

The grin dropped off of Aunt Grandma's face and she looked shocked.

"You're right," she said softly. "Andy is the best choice."

"You mean..."

"I'm convinced. We should go with Andy."

* * *

We were sitting by the campfire when a guy wearing a red tracksuit ran up to the podium and promptly fell flat on his face. He got up quickly, brushed himself off, and quickly finished running up to the podium.

"So! Guys! Stoked to be here!" Tyler said enthusiastically. "Nobody's getting eliminated tonight, so I'm giving out immunity and delicious campfire food! Wendy, Aunt G., sucks about your cabin being blown up, but here! Have some marshmallows!" He tossed us each a marshmallow. "And now! Dudes! One of you gets a Weiner of Victory and one of you gets a marshmallow, both delicious. So who gets the protein and who gets the white stuff? Well, the white one goes to..."

Tyler dragged out the silence for only five seconds before buckling.

"Steve!" he exclaimed. "And Andy, here's your hot dog!"

Andy caught the hot dog and grinned. Steve looked nervous.

"Good job, Andy," Steve said, sounding nervous. "Hope I see you in the final three."

"Me too, man," Andy said. "Me too."

Steve looked over at Aunt Grandma, who smiled dangerously at him and gave him a small wave. Steve gulped and turned back to his marshmallow.

I wonder what he knows?

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Steve: Steve  
Aunt Grandma: Andy French  
Wendy Corduroy: Andy French  
Andy French: Andy French

Final tally of votes cast:

Andy French: 3  
Steve: 1


	44. The Fairytale Princess

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

 _"So what is this, a strip club?" she asks._

 _I snort. "Yeah, like I visit those. I get all the porno I need from magazines and TV."_

 _She quirks an eyebrow. "You do realize there's this thing called the internet, right?"_

 _"You do realize my brother hogs the computer, right?"_

 _"How would I know that?"_

 _"I dunno."_

 _I take another sip of my malt liquor. It tastes like peppermint._

 _"The hell's up with this drink?"_

 _"I dunno," she says. "It's your dream."_

 _"Dream?" I ask. "Honey, the only dream here is you."_

 _She rolls her eyes. "That'd be sweet if I were on the market. But I'm not. And anyway, I'm pretty sure you're too old for me."_

 _"I'm twenty-four," I tell her. "That's not old unless–"_

 _"Twenty, and I have a great boyfriend," she says. "Besides, you're not really my type."_

 _I look at the goth girl. She's got a decent rack on her, but not much to speak of when it comes to hips. Attractive enough, I guess, if you're into goth chicks. Which I kinda am, but on the other hand, I'm into chicks in general. Plus, I prefer blondes, which I hear isn't all that unusual. Either way, she looks kinda familiar, so maybe we dated at some point in the past. Or maybe we met after a party and fell into bed together while still drunk. It doesn't really matter, though._

 _"So what is your type then?" I ask. "Some sorta wannabe vampire?"_

 _She blushes. "That's not the point. Look, I came here to ask you something."_

 _"Coulda fooled me. Because with you, the answer always seems to be no."_

 _"Not that. See, this is why I wanted to visit the Russian first."_

 _"The Russian?"_

 _"Boris. But you voted him out. Which is kind of annoying, because his dream world actually seemed pretty safe."_

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dream world?"_

 _"This is a dream. You're dreaming right now."_

 _Okay, this chick is officially cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs._

 _"If I'm dreaming, aren't you part of the dream?"_

 _She sighs. "To explain would take a long time, you'd get bored before I got even a few seconds in, and you might wake up before I'm finished. This is a dream. Just accept it."_

 _I shrug. "If it's a dream, why should I care what you have to say."_

 _She snarls. I take another sip of my malt liquor. It still tastes like cucumbers._

 _"Fine. Whatever. Knock yourself out."_

 _She takes a deep breath. "You know Chris?"_

 _"Chris?"_

 _"Chris McLean? Host of–"_

 _"Oh, right, that reality show I was on. Who won, anyway? I mean, I know Ingrid won the first time, but I'm drawing a blank for the second season I was on."_

 _"It's not over yet. You're still on the show."_

 _"No shit, really? I have a chance to make a few changes and win this one?"_

 _"Sure, whatever. But what's really important is you have to pay attention to Chris."_

 _I snort. "Yeah, no. The dude's pretty much never around."_

 _"That's exactly it!" she says. "He's never around because he's planning something. Something big."_

 _"So why don't you go bug him about it instead of me?"_

 _The goth chick freezes._

 _"That honestly never occurred to me," she says._

 _"Glad to help," I say. I take another drink of my oddly fish-flavored malt liquor._

 _"Okay, but, if you see Chris doing anything weird, take note of it, okay?" she says._

 _"Sure," I tell her sarcastically. "After all, Chris never does anything weird on this show."_

 _The goth chick rolls her eyes. "Would you believe you're not the first one to make that point?"_

 _"You've been messing around in other people's dreams?" I say jokingly. "Slut."_

 _She flips me off but smiles as she does so._

A bullhorn rips through the air. I jolt upright in my bed.

"It's time for you to start your day!" a beautiful voice sings. "So get up, get dressed, let's be on our way! There's a lot to do, no time to spare! Today's a day without compare!"

I smack my lips. My mouth tastes like pineapples.

* * *

We're all outside about five minutes later, staring at a girl in a pink dress. Everything about her screams Disney Princess, which doesn't leave me with a lot of hope for today's challenge. Then again, if it's not something excessively horrifying or painful, I can't really complain.

"Greetings, new friends!" she says cheerfully. "My name is Ella, and I'll be giving out your challenge today. It's based around one of my favorite things in the whole world!"

"Princesses?" Wendy guesses.

"Singing?" Steve guesses.

"Yes, and yes!" Ella says cheerfully. "Today, we're going to be putting on a musical I wrote! And don't worry about getting all the words right or all the notes right. All that matters today is having fun!"

"So how do we win this?" I ask.

Ella smiles at us. "You'll know when it happens."

Ella hands us all scripts. As soon as she's finished, several birds descend from the sky, grab her, and carry her away.

What. The. Fuck.

* * *

I'm not sure if I'm still dreaming, because I just saw a grown woman–okay, an almost-grown woman–get carried off. By songbirds. After she gave us all scripts for a musical. Scripts that, by the way, don't really make much sense.

Whatever. Apparently it starts at 11, which leaves me some time to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do, anyway.

I still can't shake the sense that this is going to be a clusterfuck, though.

* * *

When we show up at the stage, we have an audience of Ella and a bunch of wild animals.

"Okay, what's with...all the bears?" Wendy asks, sounding worried.

"Don't worry, they're my forest friends!" Ella says happily. "They're here to see your performance, which I'm sure will be wonderful."

"Great," Steve says nervously. "We have to put on a musical we haven't rehearsed for an audience of bears."

That's it. I'm certain this is all a dream.

Hopefully I wake up before the mauling starts.

* * *

"I am just a princess..." I sing.

That's right. For some reason, my subconscious decided that I was best suited for the role of princess in this play. Steve is my evil advisor, Aunt Grandma is the leader of the attacking gnome armies (what), and Wendy is the pirate queen (what) who wants to bring Aunt Grandma and I together (WHAT) so we stop fighting and realize that Steve has been manipulating me and we need to defeat him with the power of friendship (WHAT. THE. FUCK.).

So yes. I'm pretty sure this is all some crazy dream.

* * *

"I am just a princess and tonight my heart is blue  
The gnomes they are attacking and there's nothing I can do  
My chancellor he assures me that the only course is war  
I only wish that I could find out what they're fighting for

I know there's something causing this unrest  
I just wish I could figure out the cause of this distress

I want to find an answer so that no one has to die  
It may seem quite naive but I don't want to tell a lie  
So I wish to prevent violence if I can  
My chancellor urges self-defense, but I don't understand

Why the gnomes have chosen now to take up arms  
Could it be that we have caused them some great harm

But until I have the answer I will take that man's advice  
Prepare the guns and soldiers even though it isn't nice  
My people need defending from the horde of nearby gnomes  
So I will carry on  
I need to protect  
My  
Home..."

I finish the song and take a deep breath to prepare as Wendy swings in through a window in the set. She's brandishing a cutlass and wearing a pirate hat and an eyepatch.

"Yarr, matey!" she says loudly. "I am the pirate queen!"

"What do you want with me?" I ask.

"Well..." she starts to say. Music begins to play, an upbeat nautical tune.

"The life of a pirate is a vicious one indeed  
Sailing on the seven seas and doing dirty deeds  
Death and violence, angry silence, theft and treasure too  
But when you are a pirate there's one thing you never do  
Never get involved in international affairs  
The constant grind of politics made Bismarck lose his hair  
Pirates can't be diplomats and they must stay away  
Else their ships get commandeered to join the bloody fray

As a pirate I've seen trouble constantly unfold  
And there have been many times I've made off with the gold  
Gold they planned to use to fund a battle on the beach  
Suddenly that battle's just a little out of reach  
Now you stand and weep about the trouble on your shore  
It's nothing that I haven't seen a million times before  
Today I'm feeling generous so come along with me  
I'll show you a solution, all you need to do is see"

I cut in.

"Are you sure?  
I don't think I should trust a pirate queen  
Are you sure?  
They're cruel and rotten and mean"

Wendy takes over again.

"Pirate queens are cruel and rotten, wicked through and through  
But this queen is no fan of war, she'll give her help to you  
For war is always trouble for the troublers of the seas  
Every ship is armed and has a war flag on the breeze  
So piracy can't make you money, pirates must lay low  
Avoiding war is good for business, and that is why I know  
That helping you understand just why the gnomes are mad  
May be the best decision that I have ever had"

My turn.

"Are you sure?  
I don't think I should trust a pirate queen  
Are you sure?  
They're cruel and rotten and mean"

The music slowed down and Wendy takes over again.

"If you want war that's the choice you've made  
But pirates like me only want to get paid  
If you come along I'm sure you'll see  
A way to satisfy everybody  
So come along with me  
And I'll show you what will be  
If you help the gnomes  
You'll save your home  
And the land will be calm and free"

The song ends. As Ella and the animals applaud, Steve rushes in. Another song begins, and Steve starts singing.

"Your highness! Your highness! Do not trust the intruder!  
She may be acting friendly but you cannot listen to her!  
I'm certain that she wants to take you prisoner or worse  
She might just be a witch who puts you underneath a curse!"

Wendy speaks up.

"That's foolish, insane, what's wrong with your brain?  
Of course I'm not a witch, I'm a pirate, that's quite plain  
But I'm not trying to harm her, quite the opposite you see  
I just want to prevent war, and so she must come with me"

Steve.

"Prevent war? There's no chance! The gnomes are out in force!  
They always fight to win until the war has run its course!  
So I'm sorry, you're too late, and there's no place here for you  
So go, be on your way, you must shoo, shoo, shoo!"

Wendy.

"Shoo? I'm no cat, I'm no dog, I'm no pet  
I'm a pirate queen and I've come to place my bet!  
War can be avoided if we work to save the day  
If the princess comes with me, we'll be sure to find a way"

Steve.

"Impossible! You're crazy! No way I can permit this!  
By now I'm fairly certain that you're here to steal the princess!  
If the princess left her post, there'd be disaster for us all!  
She must stay in the kingdom, so the kingdom doesn't fall!"

Me.

"Don't I get a say  
In what we choose to do today?  
War must be avoided if it's possible at all!  
And I'm sure that you believe  
If I one day chose to leave  
That this kingdom of ours would fall  
But the pirate queen is right  
We can't resign ourselves to fight  
Peace must be the goal that we pursue  
So I'm sorry, I must bid you adieu  
And follow her to the gnomes  
I must visit their homes  
And save!  
Our kingdom!  
True!"

The song ends. Steve scurries offstage, and the set changes to signify that we are on a ship. Another song starts to play. Wendy takes a deep breath and begins to sing again.

"Sailing  
Across the sea  
Heading for the land  
Of the gnomes  
I've been living  
On the ship  
You know the water  
Is my home  
I  
Have all kinds of time  
I could sail away  
But I don't think that's alright  
So I  
Want to find a way  
To show you how much  
The gnomes are hurting tonight

It ain't just taxes it ain't just lies  
The lack of respect in human eyes  
It's all the above and a bit more too  
But if anyone can correct it, it might be you

But I go sailing  
Across the sea  
With you at my side  
To broker a deal with some gnomes  
Because I  
I know the lies  
They need you on their side  
That's all that I know

It's not the hardest thing to do  
But it's gonna be up to you  
So it's your call, you can decide  
War or peace, or let it ride

There's no need to be afraid  
Though the relationship is frayed  
They just want to see you care  
So go ahead and take the trip  
Doesn't matter if you slip  
Just so long as you make it there

Sailing  
Across the sea  
There's water everywhere  
And soon we'll be in Gnomeland  
They're waiting there to see  
To see you  
Don't worry too much about it  
Soon we'll be in Gnomeland

It's a struggle that you'll face  
Although the land's a welcome place  
You've just got to try to make them see  
The villain isn't you, just come along with me

And we'll go sailing  
Across the sea  
Across the sea  
Across the sea  
Across the sea"

Wendy finishes the song. The curtains come down, and we scurry offstage. When they rise again, the ship set has been replaced with one for a dark, dungeonlike room in which Steve and Aunt Grandma are meeting.

Aunt Grandma begins singing.

"I'm so glad that we can see eye to eye  
With the way we've been treated, I'm certain we'll die  
So it's nice to know we have you on our side  
To ensure victory over the princess's pride"

Steve takes over.

"Why yes, it's good to see that we agree  
That the princess must fall to set your people free  
And it's no surprise that our goals are aligned  
If we work together we'll both do just fine"

Aunt Grandma sings the next verse.

"I'm a bit surprised that you approached me first  
But the help of the chancellor is far from the worst  
Type of outcome we could possibly have  
If you want the throne its the throne you shall grab"

Steve.

"Of course, my dear, I made the proper choice  
The princess has overreached and muted your voice  
Your people deserve respect but I  
Should tell you she's visiting your countryside

She's visiting with a pirate queen  
To make sure she's been sufficiently mean  
If you want to stop her wicked acts  
Then now's the time, I swear these are the facts"

Aunt Grandma.

"Thank you sir, I do believe  
That this princess I will soon retrieve  
Teach her a lesson that she won't forget  
That the pride of the gnomes is not dead yet!"

The song ends and Steve walks offstage. Aunt Grandma takes center stage and stares at the audience.

"It used to be good to be a gnome  
The alliance was fair  
But we've slowly been ground underfoot  
The humans don't care

And my people are hurting  
From taxes and laws  
The princess is pretty  
But the princess has claws

It used to be that we were sure we could live together  
But now it's come to pass that she has taken control  
And now we find ourselves hiding inside during good weather  
Her reign has got us pinned underground just like moles

And my people are hurting  
From taxes and laws  
The princess is pretty  
But the princess has claws

Once upon a time we were all so free in our alliance  
And now there's come a time when we have to rebel  
Long ago we were told we could all be happy together  
Now it's just another bundle of lies that they sell

For my people are hurting  
From taxes and laws  
The princess is pretty  
But the princess has claws

She keeps hurting my people  
With taxes and laws  
The princess is pretty  
But the princess has claws  
And too many flaws  
So yes  
We have  
Just cause"

Aunt Grandma finishes her song and the curtain goes down again. Wendy and I run onstage. When the curtain rises again, the backdrop has been replaced with what I assume my imagination has decided is a gnome village. A keyboard starts playing a swaggering riff, and soon after the drums kick in Wendy begins to sing.

"You're not that far from home  
And you're not alone  
We're gonna walk through Gnomeland  
You've never been around  
But now you're on the ground  
On a walk through Gnomeland

It's a hard hard life  
For the gnomish kind  
There's a reason for all this strife  
It's time to see how you've left them behind

There are taxes galore  
On everything and more  
On products vital to Gnomeland  
See soldiers on patrol  
The gnomes must hide like moles  
They're pushed around in Gnomeland

It's a hard hard life  
For the gnomish kind  
There's a reason for all this strife  
It's time to see how you've left them behind"

I start to speak.

"Hold on, are you saying this is my fault?" I ask.

"It's the fault of your policies," Wendy says. "The raised taxes on high-grade stone–"

"I vetoed that!" I say.

"The new curfews in place–"

"There are werewolves on the prowl!"

"The soldiers enforcing martial law–"

"Wait, what? They are? Since when?"

Wendy shakes her head and begins singing again.

"It's a rocky road  
They're carrying the load  
Down here in Gnomeland  
If you're the one who rules  
You've become a fool  
Problems here in Gnomeland

It's a hard hard life  
For the gnomish kind  
There's a reason for all this strife  
It's time you see how you left them behind–"

"Halt!" a loud voice yells. Aunt Grandma leaps onstage. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to show her what's really going on," Wendy says placatingly.

"What's really going on? What's really going on?" Aunt Grandma says angrily. "I'll tell you what's really going on!"

Music starts playing again.

"You are the princess, that is plain to see  
Tell me why I shouldn't slit your throat  
You are the cause of all our misery  
Did you only come around to gloat?"

"That's a lie, I'm not here to cause you any pain!" I sing.

"You deserve a blunt object smashed into your brain," Aunt Grandma sings.

"With your taxes and curfews and your restrictive laws  
No wonder that the gnomes are all on edge  
You think that your plan is completely without flaws  
As you push us ever closer to the ledge"

"That's not true I've been fair to the gnomes all along!" I sing.

"If that's true, then your sense of fair is wrong!" she sings back.

"What about the taxes that you've levied on us all  
The soldiers that are stomping on our streets"

"I swear to you the soldiers have long since been recalled!" I sing.

"They're still trampling us underneath their feet!"

As Aunt Grandma sings, she gestures to some soldiers stomping on gnomes. The backdrop suddenly becomes very lifelike.

"Maybe this is a case of mistaken misplaced blame?" Wendy sings.

"You cannot fool me pirate queen, we're not part of her game!" Aunt Grandma sings.

The music slows down, and I start singing.

"Please, do explain, why you're treating me this way?"

"You try to act surprised but look at all the mess you've made!" Aunt Grandma sings.

"When you raise the taxes higher on our homes  
When you send soldiers out to crack down on the gnomes  
When you treat us like we're always in the way  
When you trample on our rights every day!"

"That's untrue, I'd never do a thing like that, I swear!  
I have seen those proposals but I deemed them too unfair!  
Although the chancellor was insistent that I crack down for myself  
I was certain that we should leave them to take care of themselves

Although I know I might look frail I said no each and every week  
I refused to force the gnomes to bow and pretend they were meek  
Your accusations they are false I swear, you must believe me sir  
I've been fair, this I swear, for now, the past, forevermore!"

The music changes again. Wendy begins singing.

"Maybe she, tells the truth...  
Tell me who's been telling you  
That the blame for all these laws rests solely with her  
It could be someone else instead  
Who while she's lying in her bed  
Takes the kingdom in his hands and forges signatures  
So maybe it's not she  
Who's causing all your misery  
Perhaps some villain hiding right behind the throne  
The princess may be innocent  
Tell me who told you she was sent  
To cause damage to your life and wreck your homes?"

Aunt Grandma looks surprised. "Why, it was the chancellor, of course."

"The chancellor who has been encouraging the princess to adopt ever more stringent methods of dealing with the gnomes?" Wendy probes.

I nod. "He has, and I've been trying to be as lenient as possible."

"But that makes no sense!" Aunt Grandma says. "He's been saying that the princess has gone insane and wants to punish the gnomes for no reason!"

"Why would he do that?" I ask. "I don't want to punish anybody!"

The curtains drop and we rush offstage. When they rise again, Steve is standing in the middle of the throne room with a spotlight on him. A sad song starts playing, and he sings along to it.

"There are three types of people in these stories  
The heroes are the ones who always get the glory  
The villains are the ones who lie and cheat and slander  
And then there are the innocent bystanders

They never seem to care  
They never seem to care

It's a cliche for the villain to be me  
But it's one that the heroes never see  
That the true mastermind just hides behind the throne  
He hasn't any friends and always works alone

He doesn't seem to care  
He doesn't seem to care

The villain cheats and lies and doesn't care he wants to win  
He pats you on the back then smiles and shoves the dagger in  
He works in shadow and he does his best to hide his tracks  
He poisons every well and tries to sell his lies as facts

Why don't I even care?  
Why don't I even care?

I've done my best to hide but by now it should be plain to see  
That all along the only villain here was simply me"

The lights come up and we rush into position across from him and stare him down. A triumphant tune begins to play, and everyone but Steve sings in unison.

"So we found you out at last  
You lying cheating scamp  
And nothing will save you from our wrath  
You had big plans  
You lying cheating scamp  
But the future of the kingdom's in our hands"

"You're wrong! I'll succeed!" Steve sings.  
"I got this far with ease!  
There's no way I won't win  
Although you're all my enemies!"

I take the lead vocal.

"Incorrect, sir!  
You did defect, sir!  
You went behind my back and turned on me!"

Aunt Grandma took over.

"You played us!  
Would have betrayed us!  
But now you stand exposed for all to see!"

"So you say but there's no chance," Steve sings.  
"For you to win this game!  
I've rigged it every way I can  
And you're going down in flames!"

"So you say that there's no way?" Wendy sings.

"There's no way is what I say!" Steve sings back.

The music takes on a more somber note and slows down. Wendy steps forward with a grin on her face and begins singing again.

"Except outside there is an army full of gnomes  
Who know how you laid siege to all their homes  
And the first one out that door  
Shall lie dead forever more  
They'll be torn to shreds, and savage beasts will feast upon their bones"

A few seconds go by as Wendy's words sink in, and the music suddenly becomes frantic. Steve's eyes widen in terror as he backs away and begins singing.

"You wouldn't do that to me!  
I'm too valuable you see!  
I've put the kingdom under my control!  
You can't rebel, my plan is finally whole!"

The rest of us sing in tandem.

"But we'll throw you out that door  
And you'll never hit the floor  
You've lied to us  
Now you cry to us  
No mercy shall be shown!  
Your body shall be thrown!  
To an angry crowd  
And you'll scream so loud  
And you'll never make it home!  
You don't! Fuck! With! The! Gnomes!"

And with that, we rush Steve, grab him, and throw him into the audience as he screams and the music crescendos. The curtain descends again and rises a few seconds later with me at center stage and the backdrop steadily shifting.

"So, you might be wondering what happened _after_ the evil chancellor was deposed," I say. "Well, everything pretty much returned to normal after that. Or at least, what I thought normal was. See, it seems that the chancellor had his fingers in a bunch of pies, and, well, untangling that twisted mess of graft, bribery, corruption, and general evil chancellorness took some hard work. But we got it done, and it got done faster than normal with the help of our new _non-evil_ chancellor." Wendy waves. "Yep. Turns out that being a pirate queen and being a chancellor take pretty much the same skill sets. Including the use of a cutlass to whittle down budgets in creative ways. Gnomeland and my kingdom split–well, sorta. See, Gnomeland and my kingdom were always supposed to be equal allies, but due to shifting trade relations and military relations, a lot of which were worsened by the ex-chancellor, my kingdom gradually basically began to impose its will on Gnomeland. And then raised taxes on important Gnomeland stuff...and sent soldiers to enforce our laws...yeah, let's just say that the gnomes had a lot of legitimate grievances. A _lot_ of legitimate grievances. But with the evil chancellor out of the way, I was able to patch things up with the gnome leader–you remember him, right?" Aunt Grandma waves. "We got everything worked out, strengthened our alliance, and now relations between my kingdom and Gnomeland are better than they've been in years. The gnomes aren't mad anymore, we're trading with each other, and our alliance is once again strong. But what happened to the ex-chancellor, you might ask?" I pause for a few seconds. "You really should have listened to the last song. He got torn apart by an army of angry gnomes."

I shrug. "What? Not everybody gets a happy ending. Especially the people who made everything suck in the first place. We do have an ending song, though, about the most important power in the world."

"Money?" Wendy guesses.

"Anger?" Aunt Grandma suggests.

"Friendship," I say.

We all gather together and begin singing.

"Friendship is the only thing  
That can prevent hatred and despair  
It's a proven bond between us all  
Friendship makes us care  
So be kind and be gentle  
This world is sometimes hard and cruel  
But when you have friends on your side  
You'll always make it through"

Ella and the audience of animals applaud as the curtain goes down. Steve joins us onstage, and after about half a minute the curtain rises again. Ella and the animals are still clapping. We bow.

"Oh, that was wonderful!" Ella says happily. "So wonderful, I can't possibly choose a winner! But all of you are winners in my book, so congratulations! And thank you for such a marvelous performance!"

As we watch, several birds alight on her shoulders and then fly away, taking her with them. Ella flies off into the distance, and the animals abandon the seats. Within a few minutes, we're all standing on an empty stage in front of some empty bleachers.

I guess it's time to wake up now.

* * *

All music and lyrics by SteveAtwater


	45. The Arch Villain

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

Well that was a colossal waste of time. Not only did Wendy and I fail to grab immunity, but the challenge was utterly pointless. I mean, a musical? Really?

I was surprised that we all knew how to sing, though. Of course I'm an amazing singer, although I probably could have been even more impressive had I been classically trained, but the fact that everybody else could sing as well seemed an amazing coincidence. I was also shocked that we were all able to remember our lines–including me, even though I barely glanced at the script, quickly assessing the plot as being threadbare and uninteresting. Honestly, what message was it supposed to convey? The idea that a gnome leader and a princess would overthrow her chancellor on flimsy evidence...it's ludicrous, I tell you. And winning just by shoving the chancellor through a door? Pure bunk.

Our attention was grabbed by the sound of footsteps on the edge of the stage. Chris walked over to us.

"You know, after that performance, I'm _glad_ I can't see," Chris said. "I only wish I couldn't hear, either. Anyway, since Ella wasn't willing to choose one of you as her winner, probably since all of you are losers, tonight we're going to have a very, very special campfire ceremony. That's right! Tonight, you won't be voting for somebody to get immunity. Instead, somebody will be picked...by our very own special returning competitor! Who's it gonna be, and how's it gonna shake out? Fine out when we come back, on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

As soon as Chris finished giving his idiotic spiel, we all wandered off in different directions. Steve headed for the showers, Wendy headed deeper into the woods, and Andy headed for the cabin. I know this because I followed him; I didn't really have anything to do, so I figured I'd just head back to the campgrounds and decide what to do from that point forward.

It was then that a great idea hit me. Steve had cheated his way to the final four and done his best to rig the outcome in his favor, certainly. He had made it so that despite being the arguably weakest contestant of us all, he was still probably the odds on favorite to win if Wendy or I didn't find a way to stop him. However, nothing was there to suggest that Andy hadn't gotten this far legitimately. Apart from having been inserted into the game about a quarter of the way through, of course. Still, as far as people who deserved to win who weren't me, Andy was obviously the best choice.

Plus, I could use all the help I could get if I wanted to get rid of Steve. If I could find a way to manufacture three votes against him without cheating, and a way to get Steve into the voting booth in front of everyone else, he would have to go home without any fuss. There wouldn't be any tiebreakers, there wouldn't be any way for Chris to save him from elimination...it would simply be Steve, getting escorted off the island, with nobody there to save him. And all I had to do was get Andy onto my side.

So as we approached the campgrounds, I gradually quickened my pace. I wasn't walking noticeably faster, but I was catching up with Andy, and when we were a few feet away from the deck of the lone still-standing cabin, I put my hand on his shoulder.

Andy jolted. I suppose he hadn't realized that I was behind him.

"Oh," he said, sounding a bit relieved when he saw me. "What do you want?"

I put on my pleasantest smile. "What makes you think I want something?"

Andy gave me a cynical look. "I've met you."

I winced. "Okay, fair point."

Andy leaned against the doorframe. "So what do you want? An alliance or something?"

"No–well, actually yes," I admitted. "I need your help."

"Of course you do," Andy said. "And lemme guess. I'm gonna do the dirty work and take the fall while you skate."

I looked at him oddly. "You do know that my name isn't Snidely, right?"

"How would I know that?" he asked. "You call yourself Aunt Grandma, but there's no way that's what your parents named you. Unless your parents really suck."

 _"smoking is bad for you you know"_

 _he exhales and grins his snaggletoothed grin at me as he leans up against the side of the school_

 _"relax, prissy, you're too uptight"_

 _"it's priscilla, and I am not uptight"_

 _"you have a stick up your ass the size of the space needle"_

 _"so what i should just quit caring like you"_

 _"maybe if you chilled a bit you wouldn't hate yourself so much"_

 _i stare at him angrily for a few seconds_

 _"TEACHER!"_

"My parents were not horrible," I defended them. "Anyway, that's not important. I just need to know if you've seen Steve doing anything suspicious lately."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, not you too."

"Me too?" I asked, confused.

"First that goth chick comes into my dreams and tells me to keep an eye on Chris–like I can even do that–and then you're here, asking me to do the same thing with Steve," he said, sounding annoyed. "Tell you what, why don't you keep an eye on him yourself?"

"I have!" I said. "Well, kind of. But you spend more time with him."

"So what?" he asked. "You're the one who wants me to be suspicious of pretty much the only person on the island who's friendly with me."

"That's not true–"

"It isn't? Well you could've fooled me!" he said angrily. "Wendy's hyper-focused on winning, you only talk to me when you want something, everybody not named Ruby was suspicious of me from the start because I worked with Snidely and then because I worked with Nazz, and now you're saying 'hey Andy, I know we don't like each other, but I'm gonna need you to stab Steve in the back, m'kay' and I'm supposed to just go along with it?"

Andy breathed heavily after he finished his rant. I stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to calm down. I didn't speak again until after he started to look less angry.

"I meant that it's not true that Steve's friendly with you," I said.

Andy looked at me angrily. "Really. I'm supposed to buy that."

"He's playing you," I said.

"Just like you want to, just like Nazz wanted to, just like Snidely did," he said flatly.

"I don't–" I started to say, but trailed off. I did indeed want to use Andy for my own purposes, but I didn't want it to sound as callous as Andy was making it sound.

"Yeah," Andy said sarcastically. "If I'm gonna be played by someone, I'd like them to at least treat me decently. That puts Steve in...oh! First place! And you wonder why I don't want to work with you."

"Would you just listen?" I snapped.

"No," he said. He opened the door, walked into the cabin, and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

We were all gathered around the campfire when an attractive hispanic man wearing a red shirt and a tank top, both carefully arranged to show off his pecs, walked up to the podium. He smiled a dazzling smile at all of us and cleared his throat.

"My friends, it is wonderful to be here again," he said. "For those of you who don't know me, I am Alejandro Burromuerto, a finalist on World Tour and a...ahem...contestant on All-Stars. And tonight, I have apparently been presented with the honor of choosing one of you to have immunity from elimination during the next campfire ceremony. I must say, this is an honor!"

Alejandro paused and grinned at us, casting his green eyes over everybody. I looked right back at him. Wendy straightened up and grinned nervously. Andy continued to slouch but looked at him warily. And Steve stared back at him with some apprehension.

"So, who will I choose to carry the mantle of invincibility?" he mused out loud. "There are so many choices, and all of them are wonderful, but all for very unique reasons." He fixed his gaze on Wendy. "Wendy, you are one of the strongest players of this generation, but you have been beset by betrayal. First, Nazz turned on you, stabbing you in the back and sending you home in a maneuver reminiscent of...well, me." He chuckled. "Then, when you came back, Boris voted you off and sent you home first. Despite this, you managed to return to the island, and you've made it farther than you ever have before. Even though you were betrayed twice, you never truly lost your willingness to trust others, although you've tempered it with a desire to verify that your trust is well-placed. I must applaud this."

He looked over to me. "Aunt Grandma. You've been here from the start, and you're one of only two players to have been here from the start of the season to make the final four. One might assume that that means the deck is stacked against you, but with your strength and intelligence, I believe the odds are in your favor. You have rebounded from your underwhelming performance in the first season to emerge as one of the clearly strongest players to play the game–not just this season, but ever." This Alejandro fellow is incredibly perceptive. "Although one must wonder whether someone so skilled actually needs the assistance of immunity to win, there is the equally strong counterargument that a player so talented _deserves_ immunity."

Alejandro looked at Steve. "Steve. Upon looking at you, one would likely not peg you as destined for the final four. And yet, here you sit, in front of me, with a chance at immunity. While I will admit that I don't approve of your particular strategy, as I prefer to let my opponents destroy themselves, I must say that it has been incredibly successful. In fact, had I emulated it, perhaps I would have won All-Stars. But then again, perhaps not. The world works in mysterious ways. Still, I must say that just by getting this far against strong odds, you are a wonderful candidate to be given immunity, if only so we can see if you can continue your run."

He turned to Andy. "And Andy. You are perhaps the most unlikely of all the four sitting before me tonight. But despite this, you yourself have already achieved immunity and a ticket into the final three. I must say, I'm impressed despite myself, but I wonder how long your luck will last. Still, you should pat yourself on the back for having been able to make it this far, my friend. Well done!"

Alejandro became solemn again as he looked at all of us. "That said, who shall I pick? Wendy, who has overcome obstacles that would have felled most people–and even if they didn't, would have destroyed their ability to trust others? Aunt Grandma, perhaps the comeback story of the season? Steve, whose unusual strategy got him this far and perhaps even farther? Or Andy, in order to make the last challenge a free-for-all between _three_ players rather than a one-on-one match between the remaining two?"

"Hold on," Wendy said. "Okay, how do you know all this stuff?"

Alejandro grinned. "I watched the rough cuts."

"What rough cuts?" Wendy asked. "I didn't see any rough cuts."

Alejandro scratched his head awkwardly. "Yes, they generally stopped releasing them to contestants after World Tour. It seems that doing so had some ill effects on the relationships of other contestants. But they were generally sent out within a few days of a challenge's completion to provide fodder for discussion among those no longer competing. Chris liked to poke the bear. You understand."

"So if we don't get to see them, why do you get them?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, last time I just got to see the voting results for my elimination!" Wendy said angrily.

"We all did," I told her.

"So we know what challenges have already been done, and what contestants we'll have to work with," Alejandro said.

"Wait, so does this mean–" Steve started to ask.

"Oh yes," Alejandro said. "We know. And so does Aunt Grandma, although she managed to figure it out on her own."

Steve looked at me nervously. I stared back at him.

"Still, I have to choose one of you," Alejandro said. "Andy, while you are indeed deserving of immunity, I'm afraid that I cannot possibly give you dual immunity. You understand, correct?"

Andy shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

"Aunt Grandma, I do believe that while you are an interesting comeback story, those stories are so much better if they aren't given...outside help," Alejandro said. "I hope that doesn't upset you."

I nodded curtly, never breaking eye contact with Steve. "I know what I have to do."

"And Wendy," Alejandro said.

 _necrotizing fasciitis is an infection that causes the death of soft tissue such as skin; it is prone to spreading throughout the body quickly and if left unchecked can lead to a somewhat slow and agonizing death_

"While I would love to give you immunity, I'm afraid that you were reinserted to the game after the merge, and have gotten as much help as any player could possibly want," he continued. "So that means that..."

Alejandro paused for a few seconds in order to draw out the inevitable.

"Giving you a bit more help won't hurt," he concluded. "Congratulations, Wendy! Your ticket to the final three is stamped!"

He tossed her a hot dog.

"Enjoy your sausage," he said. "Aunt Grandma, Steve, tomorrow's competition will decide which of you is moving on and which of you is going home."

I grinned at Steve as I continued to stare him down. "Believe me, I'm looking forward to it."


	46. The Schemer

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

I wake up around one. No, not A.M., P.M. Which is weird, since usually we get woken up at some point, or I wake up before the challenge starts. But who knows, maybe today we're going to have an afternoon challenge, or an evening challenge, or a night challenge. Or maybe I just wasn't woken because I don't have to compete. I _do_ have immunity, after all, and today's challenge is probably going to be just a straight-up elimination. At least, that's what I assume it is, since that Al guy did everything except outright state it was an elimination challenge.

I guess he could have been lying. I dunno, I got a bad vibe from him. Not sure why. But then again, he didn't really have any reason to lie unless Chris told him to. I wouldn't have selected the fat guy with bad skin as a liar, but he pulled it off convincingly enough to save my bacon and get me to the merge, even if I didn't know it at the time.

That's not important right now, though. What is important is that he also said something about seeing rough cuts and knowing one of Steve's secrets. Now, I usually wouldn't care that much–I mean, some things you just leave alone. But if Steve's got something to hide, and Aunt Grandma knows what it is...

The guy was cryptic, there's no denying that. But saying something like that after Aunt Grandma approached me and asked me to keep an eye on Steve, well, either he's trying to handicap Steve and break apart our friendship, or maybe Aunt Grandma really does have something on Steve. Okay, maybe not that she has dirt on him, but that she knows something that he doesn't want her to know.

Unless she doesn't. Either way, it's afternoon and I haven't eaten since yesterday.

* * *

I wander into the cafeteria. It's completely deserted except for a skinny guy reading a book. He glances up at me.

"Hey," he says blandly before looking back at his book.

"Uh, hi," I say. "You're uh, the challenge giver?"

He smirks but continues to read. "And you must be Einstein."

Great. Another jackass.

"Yeah, fine, whatever," I say. "So what's today's challenge, anyway? Or am I exempt because I have immunity?"

He doesn't stop looking at his book as he says "It hasn't started yet. I'm just waiting for everybody to wake up."

"And you're not waking us up because..." I prompt.

This causes him to actually look up at me. "Look, some of us actually _remember_ being at this camp. Maybe I wasn't here long, but I've seen the show, and I went through the first few days. If I had to guess, I'd say Chris hasn't really backed off on his whole sleep-deprivation deal, even if he doesn't get to be the center of attention all the time. Am I in the ballpark there?"

I nod reluctantly.

"Yeah. So I made it perfectly clear that everybody was going to get to sleep in as long as they wanted," he says. "The challenge doesn't start until everybody wakes up, and I'll know when they're awake because they'll come over here."

"How can you be so sure?" I ask.

He looks back at his book. "Is there anything else to do around here?"

Like it or not, the guy has a point. He may be antisocial and sarcastic, but he doesn't seem to want to hurt us and he's probably smart enough to not give Chris a chance to take over.

"So where is everybody?" I ask.

He shrugs without looking up. "Beats me."

* * *

I wander outside for a while, trying to find something to do that isn't just lying around in the cabin. I mean, I could do that, but really, I'm not sure if I want to right now. I've spent a lot of time lying in the cabin lately, and well, it's reminding me a bit too much of how things were when I was unemployed.

Which reminds me that I'm not really sure of my employment situation. One minute I'm working with Jim, the next I'm on this island because of some prank video he made that ended with Gus knocking me out and me whizzing all over myself.

The fact that Jim's prank video isn't the most painful video footage of me that exists is kind of depressing when I think about it.

But still, I should probably find something to do. Nothing too exhausting, since I don't know what the challenge is yet, but _something_.

And that's when I come across Aunt Grandma doing chin-ups using a tree branch as the bar.

"Hey," I say nonchalantly.

She looks down at me. "Hey."

I lean against another tree. "So what'd you want to tell me?"

"About what?" she asks.

I give her a look. "Don't play games with me."

She nods and drops off of the tree. "So are you ready to believe me?"

I pause. "Maybe."

She takes a deep breath and exhales. "Steve's been cheating."

"...how?"

"He's rigged the vote."

I snort. "Really? So what, he's got more friends than you do?"

"No, he's literally been breaking into the voting box and changing the votes to get rid of people he doesn't like."

Now Aunt Grandma has my attention.

"You know, I think I would've noticed a broken box," I say. "I've gone in after him a few times."

"Have you paid attention to what the box looks like, though?" she asks.

"No, but it's been locked," I tell her. "Not that I've tested it!"

"Right, sure, but–"

"Okay," I interrupt. "How do you know that Steve has been cheating? Where's your proof?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Well, I don't have any tangible proof..."

I roll my eyes. "Here it comes..."

"Look!" Aunt Grandma snaps. "I know you weren't here for part of the contest, but a lot of the eliminations our team did made no sense. Especially since Ruby was kept on, and you saw her–she just wanted to go home, that's it. Yet somehow, she stays on forever and never gets voted off? That's because Steve wanted her to stay on. Then Snidely gets voted off unanimously? That's gotta be because Steve rigged the votes and didn't count on all of us voting for Snidely."

I wave her off. "Please, that was just Chris messing with our heads."

"No, it was Steve rigging the votes!" she says urgently. "Last night, the whole strategy that Alejandro was referring to? The one he didn't approve of? I'm 90% certain he was referring to Steve's vote-rigging."

"Fine," I say. "Let's just say you're correct. Wouldn't that mean that somebody else was voted off in your place and that without Steve's help you'd be gone?"

Aunt Grandma opens her mouth to protest, but can't find any words and slowly lets it shut.

"Yeah," I say. "And if you win tonight, Steve goes home. So why do you need my help anyway?"

Aunt Grandma can't say anything.

"That's what I thought," I say. I turn to leave.

"You deserve to know the truth," she says behind me.

I stop and look back. "Pardon me?"

She takes a deep breath. "I think everybody deserves to know what he's doing. Even if it doesn't work out for him in the end, even if he loses tonight, I don't want anybody to think he's a good guy. I know, I know, he puts up this face where you underestimate him, but that's because he's rigged the game. As long as he doesn't finish last in an elimination contest, he moves on. Maybe you don't believe me. You think he's your friend. You think I'm just trying to use you. That's fine. But I think you should know the truth."

"Uh-huh..." I say slowly.

The loudspeakers crackle to life, and the sarcastic guy's voice comes through them. "Hey everybody, Wendy just woke up and checked in with me. So, uh, get down here for the challenge in, like, thirty minutes. I don't care. We're not starting until you're all here."

* * *

I have no idea whether Aunt Grandma was telling the truth a while ago. I do know that we've been waiting for about five minutes while this guy reads his book, and I have to say that my opinion of him is nosediving the longer he makes us wait.

He slams the book shut and looks at us for the first time.

"Okay, let's get this out of the way," he says flatly. "I'm Noah, I'm from the first generation cast, and no I never placed well. All of that is irrelevant. What is important is that I'm giving you all the challenge today." Wendy's hand shoots up. "What?"

"I have immunity," Wendy says. "Do I really have to do this?"

Noah shrugs. "Do whatever, I don't care."

"Sweet!" Wendy says before hightailing it out of here. We watch her go.

"Okay, anybody else have a doctor's note?" Noah asks.

I don't raise my hand.

"Fine, whatever," Noah says. "So, today's challenge is a simple one." He cracks his book open and begins reading again. "You're all going to do nothing."

We wait for him to elaborate, but he just reads silently. After a few minutes, Steve speaks up.

"Uh, pardon me, but what do you mean, nothing?"

Noah doesn't look up from his book. "Nothing. You do nothing. You just lie in here, staring at the ceiling or whatever, and the last one to crack from sheer boredom wins the game. That's all."

The doors fly open.

"Wait, what?" Chris asks frantically. "Are you serious?"

Noah doesn't look up. "It seems that way."

"No, no, nonono," Chris says, sounding worried. "You can't have a whole challenge where nobody does anything! You have to have them do something!"

"Not really," Noah says flatly.

"Are you serious?" Chris asks worriedly. "I finally regain my sight, only for this? Look, dude, we had a freaking roleplaying episode! And not the fun kind, the kind where a bunch of nerds sit around a table and roll dice while pretending to be wizards! No way can we do another episode that boring!"

Noah looks up and grins evilly. "That's the point, chief."

"What?" Chris asks.

"See, here's the thing," Noah says. "You've put all of us through a bunch of abuse. I got off comparatively scot-free, all things considered, but this entire show has been you basically being a sadist to all of us, in the name of better ratings and you being entertained."

"So?" Chris asks. "It's television, dude. That's how the game works."

"Maybe," Noah says. "But it's the final four, two people have immunity–yes, Andy, I know about that, the question about doctor's notes was rhetorical, you can play if you want–and so this is pretty much an elimination episode. Which means that as much as you hate it, you're going to have to air the challenge. And no matter how much padding you want to slip in here just showing whatever Wendy's doing on her day off, you're still going to have to show at least five minutes, probably ten or more, of people just doing nothing at all."

"Why?" Chris asks, sounding anguished.

"Because I. Don't. Like. You." Noah says. "This is my revenge for everything you put me through, everything you put Owen through...in a way, it's for all of us Total Drama contestants who hate your guts."

"Y–you can't do this!" Chris protests.

"Actually, I can," Noah says. "I learned my lesson about reading contracts. Plus, I have a girlfriend who wants to be a lawyer, so she helped me make sure that yes, I am in charge of this entire challenge. Which reminds me...Chef?"

Chef walks out of the kitchen. "Whaddya want, stickboy?"

Noah hitches his thumb towards Chris. "Get this guy out of here. Wait! Throw him in the dumpster. Or the communal toilets. Whichever's funnier."

Chef grins. "You're cruel."

Noah shrugs. "Cruel as I have to be."

Chef approaches Chris. Chris begins backing up.

"Whoa, whoa, wait Chef! Wait! Wait! Dude!"

Chris takes off running. Chef gives chase.

* * *

We've been in the cafeteria for about an hour now. I'm starting to think that maybe Wendy had the right idea, since we're basically stuck here forever. Or at least, that's now Noah explained it to us. Anybody who leaves loses their chance at invincibility. And while I know I could leave, well, c'mon. Doing nothing. That's _right_ up my alley. If there was a challenge perfectly suited to your skill set, you'd be nuts to just give up on it, right? Well, this one is mine. Being lazy is one of my primary skills. Besides, y'know, being cool, and cartooning. Although I don't know if cartooning is really a skill of mine. I rarely get published. And by rarely I mean pretty much never.

My stack of rejection letters is not the issue, though. It's not the overwhelming boredom, either. Truth be told, this is actually a lot better than that philosophy class I took at Borchmore, or pretty much any foreign-language course I've ever taken. Huge wastes of time, but not that hard to pass. Like I said, this challenge is perfectly suited to me, since Steve and Aunt Grandma are already starting to look a little stir-crazy. Or at least they were last time I checked. I haven't really been paying attention, although I suppose I should be. But honestly, Aunt Grandma's given me a lot to think about, and today I've got nothing to do _but_ think. So. Here I am.

The problem is that I don't know who to believe. It should be Steve, right? Aunt Grandma's kind of a psycho, that Al guy seemed slippery, and Steve hasn't lied to me. That I know of. And Aunt Grandma's the only one actually accusing Steve of cheating, since Alejandro only referenced some strategy and some secret Steve has. So maybe I don't have anything to worry about when it comes to Steve.

I mean, c'mon, it's _Steve_. He's a nice guy. He was pretty much the only one initially willing to give me a chance after I worked with Snidely and Nazz, at least as far as I can tell. I don't think he has a mean bone in his body, and he's always been pretty nice to me, so yeah, I'm not exactly buying that he's some sort of evil mastermind cheating his way through the game. Aunt Grandma's not the best judge of character, either. Just because the eliminations didn't go the way she thought they would doesn't mean that Steve's rigging the vote.

But then again, he did kick Snidely in the face when zombies were attacking. I will admit that I would've been tempted to do the same thing. I mean, it's _Snidely_. Pretty much all of us wanted to get rid of him from the moment he came back. But Steve actually kicked Snidely to fall to what could've been his death. Seriously, all of us were convinced that it was an actual zombie attack, even me. I know it sounds silly in retrospect, but I actually thought I was going to die when the zombies grabbed me.

So either Steve figured out what was going on and wanted Snidely to lose or he was actually willing to sacrifice Snidely to zombies. Either way, I wouldn't expect that from him. He's never seemed like he was ever out to get anybody, but kicking Snidely in the face kind of changes that. Even if Snidely deserved it, maybe Aunt Grandma was right. Maybe Steve's cheating his way to the finale.

Does that really matter, though? He obviously wants to face me. And I can't blame him. If I were Steve, I'd want to face the biggest failure in the game too. So maybe I should just let him slide even if he's cheating. I mean, that's the smart play, right? That's what Kevin would do if he wanted to get close to the ten million.

Right?

Ugh, no. I mean, I gave him that big lecture about not letting two bullies get blamed for a crime they didn't commit. I mean, sure, they're total jerks, but they don't deserve 25 to life. At least not yet. Not without having done something to deserve it. And to his credit, the little douchebag did admit to masturbating in front of an entire courtroom. So yeah, there's no way I can let Steve get away with cheating if he is cheating. But I don't even know if he's doing that!

I'm starting to hate Al and Aunt Grandma. If it weren't for them, I'd be doing just fine, but instead, I'm constantly wondering what the hell is up with Steve and the votes. And as much as I've turned all this over in my head, I still don't have a clue whether or not Aunt Grandma is lying. I mean, she did admit she didn't have any evidence, but even that's not useful because that was a dumb thing to admit if she was trying to convince me. Which makes it more likely she was telling the truth.

Every single thing I consider seems to invert, revert, and then be completely useless because it could go either way. All I know is that Aunt Grandma is trying to get ahead, and she views Steve as her biggest competition. Which means either she thinks Steve is stronger than he looks, or she thinks he's cheating all the way. Like I said. No matter what, everything just goes round and round again.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

Aunt Grandma and I both swivel our heads to see the source of the commotion. It's Steve. He's standing up with his eyes on fire.

"I CAN'T TAKE IT!" he yells again. "THIS IS ALMOST AS BAD AS WORKING FOR DR. WEIRD! I'M DONE! I'M OUT! NO! NO! NO!"

And with that, Steve runs straight through the doors of the cafeteria.

"Huh," Noah says, and it's only now that I realize he didn't even look up from his reading. "I guess that just leaves you two."

So. Me and Aunt Grandma. This is pretty much decided, then. Aunt Grandma's going to win...well, probably. I don't know that I'm willing to put myself on the line just in case that ends up keeping Steve around. I'm honestly not sure that would happen even if I won. I mean, would Aunt Grandma necessarily get voted off? I don't even know who to vote for.

Aunt Grandma locks eyes with me. She stares at me for a full minute before standing up and walking out of the cafeteria.

What. The. Fuck.

"Well, I guess you won," Noah says. "That's another immunity. Huh. I guess that means that we're having a campfire ceremony after all. I'm genuinely interested in how Chris is going to pull this one off." He smiles at me sincerely. "Congratulations."


	47. The Type A

**Enter...  
AUNT GRANDMA**

So, I admit, that may not have seemed like the smartest strategic move. After all, I had a golden opportunity to end it there. By just outlasting Andy, I could have booted Steve off of the island and secured his loss. More than that, I would have made the game a competition between myself and Wendy by ensuring that whichever one of us lost in the final three, the other one would go on to an easy win against Andy. Unless, of course, Andy was the one who lost, in which case that would be the finale. Letting that win slip away must have seemed idiotic.

But that's because I wasn't thinking about the short term. I was thinking about the long term. The plan Wendy and I had devised was foolproof: we would take Steve and get him to vote first, using force if necessary. With him unable to go in and rig the votes, Wendy and I could then cast our ballots as well, giving us a 2-1 advantage pending Andy's vote. And that was my ace in the hole. I had made my overtures to Andy, and I just had to wait to see how he voted. If he chose to vote with Wendy and I, he had obviously decided that I was correct, and that would make him my ally when it came to getting to the finale. Admittedly, that might not be much of an advantage, but it would still be _an_ advantage I'd hold. And if, instead, it came down to a tiebreaker, I would trounce Steve easily on a fair field, and he would find himself going home, just as if Andy had voted with us. So if Andy voted with me, I stood to gain; if he didn't, I stood to gain.

In other words, instead of settling for a simple win, I set myself up for a win, and then perhaps another win. Nothing could possibly stop me now.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

I've been out of the mess hall for barely five minutes, and I'm already kicking myself. I mean, what was I thinking? I fought so hard to get this far, and gave it up just because I was bored? I've been sucked into a miniature black hole, for God's sake! And I gave up ten million dollars because I was bored?

I have to hand it to Noah. Not only did he manage to screw Chris over, he managed to screw me over too. I'm half-impressed, but mostly pissed, with how he managed to pull it off.

And then Aunt Grandma walks out of the mess hall and I nearly choke. What the fuck is she doing here?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask.

She grins at me viciously. "I've got a secret."

"A secret?" I ask. Somehow her tone of voice doesn't make me feel any less uneasy.

"I've got a secret," Aunt Grandma says again, and she leans in. From this close, I can see that her green eyes are almost sparkling with sadistic delight. " _To hide._ "

Okay, that was definitely incredibly creepy. She's got something up her sleeve, that's for sure.

You just have to make it through dinner, Steve. Make it through dinner, make sure–

SHIT.

She got to Andy. Somehow, she must have gotten Andy to turn on me. Okay. Okay. I can deal with this. That's not a problem. I just need to make sure that I'm the last one into the booth so that I can change the vote. All I have to do is avoid everybody, spy on the confessional, and make sure I'm the last one in. It'll be close, it'll be tough, but I can do it. There's no way they can make me go in before them. I just have to be the last in line, that's all.

C'mon, Steve. You've got this. It's a vote. You've got a chance.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY CORDUROY**

I was lazing on the beach, soaking up some rays...ha! Just kidding. Unfortunately, we Corduroys burn. It's one of the consequences of, well, being redheaded and pale-skinned. We don't tan well. We just burn and get more freckles. And lucky me, I didn't pack enough sunscreen because this show doesn't spend a lot of time on the beach. It's nuts, I know. You'd think they'd take advantage of the beach more often, but nope. Everything happens on the, well, the 'land' part of the island, which raises the question of why they don't just put this in Saskatchewan somewhere.

I really _was_ lying on the beach as the sun set, but I wasn't soaking up rays or anything. I was just enjoying the calm, pleasant beauty of a day that wasn't being messed up by a challenge. That, and the knowledge that Aunt Grandma and I had a pretty much unbeatable strategy if it came down to a vote. One or both of us would take care of Steve, getting him into the confessional first. Then we'd boot him out. Of course, that assumes that he doesn't win invincibility today–in which case, I'm in the free and clear, since it's me against, well, Steve and Andy. They're...not completely bad at the game, I guess, but neither of them is exactly the most threatening competitor.

So yeah, I was feeling confident, especially when the loudspeakers crackled to life and Chef announced "Andy has won the challenge and, uh, double immunity. However that works. But since you guys took over my dining room and Noah didn't want me to cook because that might be interesting, dinner is hereby cancelled. So all of you! Get your butts over there and vote! Now now now!"

I got to my feet lazily, stretching and flexing my joints before sauntering off towards the confessional. The worst case scenario? Aunt Grandma needs my help to shove Steve into the voting booth. Best case scenario? She's already taken care of it. Either way, I just know that tonight is gonna be a good night.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **ANDY FRENCH**

Okay, I know I've said this before, and I'm definitely going to say this again, but what. The. Fuck.

I mean, seriously! Ever since the challenge with the redhead where everything blew up, not a single goddamn thing has made sense. I get voted into immunity instead of Steve? Unlikely. We all get sucked into a musical? Impossible. Alejandro suggests that Steve is cheating and that Aunt Grandma knows about it? Weird. Aunt Grandma tries to get me on her side? Totally predictable. Aunt Grandma gives up on winning immunity and kicking Steve out in favor of giving me immunity I don't even need? WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Seriously what the hell? Was I hit by a stray piece of debris and knocked into an insane dream? Because, if I'm being honest, that makes more sense than anything else that has happened recently. I mean, there's no way Aunt Grandma would be willing to let Steve stay on, right? That would pretty much give Steve a way to win by rigging the vote. Unless maybe she wants me to test it. If I vote the way she wants, that guarantees a win for her, because if she loses I'll know–I'll know–that Steve rigs the vote. And if Steve goes home, she gets to stay on.

Great. Even now I have no idea whether or not Steve is cheating, and I have no idea what I should even do. If this is just a hallucination, my subconscious is a _bitch_.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

As soon as Chef's announcement finishes, Aunt Grandma's creepy grin grows wider. I gulp.

"Well, uh, then, I guess I'll leave you to your voting," I say nervously.

Her hand shoots out and grabs my arm. She grabs onto it so tightly I start to lose feeling in my fingers within five seconds. She continues to grin at me maniacally.

"Uh, Aunt Grandma?" I ask nervously.

Aunt Grandma keeps grinning at me.

"You seem to have, um, taken my arm?" I say. I gulp again. Aunt Grandma just keeps grinning. "And I, uh, kind of, uh, need it for...things?"

"Oh, trust me, you can have it back," she says, layering her words with false sweetness. "You can have it back just as soon as I'm done with you."

"Uh..." I say uncomfortably.

"You see, we both know what you're doing," Aunt Grandma says, starting to move and pulling me with her. "In fact, I think everybody knows by now, including Wendy and Andy. Yes, I'm pretty sure I got him to come around too. And now nothing can save you."

"What do you mean?" I ask. I don't want to know what she means.

"Oh, I know your secret," Aunt Grandma says, giving me a sharp yank. I stumble and nearly fall but manage to catch my balance as Aunt Grandma keeps pulling me forward. "I know you rigged the votes from the beginning."

"But I–" I start to protest.

"Oh, don't try to deny it," Aunt Grandma says. "But now, now it's all over. You're going into the booth first. And you're not going to be able to stuff the box this time. You're going to cast your vote, and no matter what, you're headed home."

This can't be. This can't be. This can't be!

No, no, I had it all planned out. As soon as I saw Harold and Mal get away with it, no punishment, something clicked. I realized what I could do to win. And it worked! It worked! Every one of my enemies, everybody fell before me! Everyone! Elise, she thought she could control me, she got the other girls to kick me off in front of her, and I repaid her, I repaid her in full, eliminating her dumb wide ass! Marlowe voted me off without any regrets! So I gave her some! Then Dale started to catch on, he went home! He went home!

But maybe I should have gotten rid of this bitch instead. This fucking bitch! She's going to fucking, to fucking, to fucking, to fucking, to throw me into the booth and get me booted off! She slandered me! She fucked me! She fucked me!

Fuck! Fuck! No, this isn't how it ends! I made Nazz pay! I got a second chance at Snidely and made him pay! This isn't how it's supposed to go! I'm supposed to be in the finale! I'm supposed to make it all the way!

Motherfucker! Shit! Cock! Jesus fuck what the fuck! I had it all!

I knew it all!

I should be winning this thing!

This isn't fair!

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **AUNT GRANDMA**

I yanked the door to the confessional open and threw Steve inside. I then leaned up against the side of the confessional and casually waited. It took him five minutes to finish, but when he exited, he looked suitably downcast.

"I guess it's my turn," I said brightly. "To win!"

I laughed evilly. Steve just shook his head defeatedly and walked off as I entered the voting booth to cast my vote. There was no way I wouldn't win now.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **ANDY FRENCH**

I slowly wander down towards the confessional to cast my vote. Honestly, I'm just stalling at this point, trying to get some idea of who to vote for. Nothing so far has really provided any answers, but I just know there's something I'm missing. I just don't know what it is. And I just know that if I could figure it out, I'd have a better idea of what to do instead of being stuck in this, well, this stasis.

I've just reached the outhouse when the door swings open and Aunt Grandma steps out. As I watch her exiting the voting booth, I realize who I need to talk to.

Wendy.

If she's siding with Aunt Grandma, that'll say a lot. I mean, sure, Wendy and I have never been on the best of terms, but if she's siding with Aunt Grandma over Steve, that's probably a good sign that I shouldn't trust Steve after all. If she doesn't know anything about this, though, Aunt Grandma's probably lying. Or at least, she wasn't able to convince Wendy.

"Hey, Aunt Grandma," I say. "Have you seen Wendy?"

Aunt Grandma shakes her head. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just...just wanted to ask her a question," I say.

Aunt Grandma smiles. "I'm sure she'll turn up eventually." She holds the door open invitingly.

"Thanks," I say hesitantly.

I enter the confessional, and Aunt Grandma lets the door shut behind me. When it slams, it sounds like a guillotine blade coming down, and I know, no matter what I do with my vote, I will regret it. There are no good answers in this place.

I sit down, take the pen and a ballot, and stare at the sheet. Four choices, two of them already blacked out. So two choices.

Steve.

Aunt Grandma.

And no correct answer.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY CORDUROY**

I calmly sat on one of the stumps and swung my legs aimlessly. Steve wasn't there yet, but I assumed that was because he guessed that he couldn't lose a marshmallow ceremony if he wasn't there to be eliminated. That's a pretty stupid assumption for him to make, but hey, he thought that he could win it all by cheating his way through the game. Plus, the guy's a coward, so it's perfectly in keeping with what I know about him for him to decide not to show up to his own elimination.

I was thinking about this when Steve decided to show up. As soon as he did, a chill ran through me.

"So, Wendy," Steve said noncommittally, "Who'd you decide to vote for?"

Shit. Either I went in too early, or Steve's just trying to mess with my head.

God I hope he's just trying to mess with me.

"Who do you think?" I asked.

Steve looked directly at me. "Do I have to guess?"

"Do you?" I asked.

Steve smiled for the first time. "No, I guess I don't."

And with that, Steve sat down on the farthest stump away from me and stared off into the distance at nothing. A few minutes later, Aunt Grandma showed up, and as soon as she saw me her eyes widened and the smile dropped from her face.

"Wendy," she said urgently. "Please, please tell me Steve got here before you."

FUCK.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **ANDY FRENCH**

I can't be confident about the choice I made. I could have done the right thing. I could have done the wrong thing. Either way, I'll probably end up feeling stupid when all is said and done. But when I make it to the campfire site, I walk into a solid wall of tension. Not a literal wall, thankfully, although the way things have been going recently I wouldn't be surprised if I ran into an actual physical wall composed of tension.

Everybody is sitting around uncomfortably, and as soon as I sit down Chris appears behind the podium almost magically.

"Ah, you know, it's good to be back," he says happily.

"What do you mean?" Steve asks.

"Well, you see, the last few times we've had an ex-contestant host the challenge and another one host the campfire ceremony," Chris explain.

"Yeah, no shit," I mutter.

"Quiet, you," Chris says. "But, well, there's a certain contestant we were worried about. I mean, we were going to bring her back, but then we realized that she'd probably sue us if we did. Or she'd try to steal the money. Or she'd do something stupid that would cost us money or, well, long story short we don't trust her not to screw up a campfire ceremony."

"What's so hard about that?" Aunt Grandma asks. "It's just tossing marshmallows."

"I know, right?" Chris says. "Even Staci didn't screw it up. Well, unless you count being really boring as screwing up, but at least she didn't do anything catastrophically stupid and/or annoying. But, thanks to Andy's double-immunity, I can call this her campfire ceremony without having to take the risk of letting her back on! Yeah, I know. I'm good. But enough about that because tonight, instead of having a ceremony hosted by a rank amateur, you're getting one hosted by yours truly, the one and only Total Dramamaster, Chris McLean!"

"Wow, how shocking," Wendy says sarcastically.

Chris grins. "It will be. Oh, will it ever! But let's start the conversation with...Steve."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

I gulp nervously as Chris turns and points at me.

"You, Steve. Dude," Chris says. "You're on the chopping block because you just couldn't stand another second of lying around doing nothing."

He pauses for dramatic effect.

"I gotta say, I empathize with you," he says. "Well, not really. Actually, that was one of the stupidest things you could have done. Sure, you saved your sanity, but at what cost?" He smirks. "Actually, I can tell you the cost. Up to ten million dollars! But not all hope is lost. I mean, just look at Aunt Grandma! The woman gave up on the challenge too and let Andy grab immunity."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **AUNT GRANDMA**

I glared at Chris as he turned to me. Chris met my glare with a dazzling grin.

"What were you thinking?" he asked. "I mean, let's be real here. Nobody on this island likes you. By giving up and letting Andy win, I mean, really? Did you think that you had immunity automatically because Steve gave up first? Because you were _so_ wrong. I mean, really. Letting Wendy, Andy, and Steve decide your fate? This should be an easy slam dunk to send you home!"

Chris looked around the stumps, still grinning.

"Except for one tiny detail," he said. "Aunt Grandma is in a secret alliance with Wendy!"

Everybody gasped, including me. I just couldn't believe he'd revealed that.

"That's right," Chris said. "And on top of that, Aunt Grandma has been trying to pull Andy over to her side too."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **ANDY FRENCH**

Okay, yeah, I didn't see that one coming. Although I suppose it should have been obvious that Aunt Grandma and Wendy were working together when they decided to vote out Snidely instead of each other. Then again, Steve and I decided to get rid of Snidely too, so maybe it's not weird that we didn't pick up on it.

"Did Aunt Grandma succeed?" Chris continues. "Did she manage to get Andy's vote and send Steve packing? Is Steve the one whose head will roll tonight?"

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY CORDUROY**

Chris grinned at me. "Or maybe, just maybe, the alliances held. Wendy voted with Aunt Grandma and Andy voted with Steve, forcing a tie and a tiebreaker. Unless I choose to boot both of you off at once. Or maybe they fell apart, and Andy voted with Aunt Grandma while Wendy voted with Steve."

I gritted my teeth. I had voted for Steve and had my vote replaced, and Chris knew it.

Somehow, Andy had become our only hope.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **AUNT GRANDMA**

"I'll be honest here," Chris said. "This is the first time in a long while that every vote has been a complete wild card. Well, except for Steve and Aunt Grandma. We know who they voted for. But everyone else? They're unpredictable."

I stared at Chris with bated breath. His face turned serious as he held up a marshmallow.

"This marshmallow represents safety," Chris said. "The person who receives this marshmallow will get to stay on this island, move on to the final three, and continue to compete for ten! Million! Dollars! The one who doesn't, must head over to the Dock of Shame, board the Boat of Losers, and sail off the island. And you can never return. _Ever_."

Chris paused for a few seconds before grinning. "That is, unless we bring you back for another season and put it on this island again. Who can say, really? But, this marshmallow goes to..."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

Andy, you motherfucker, if you fucked me there will be hell to pay. There will be _hell_ to pay.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY CORDUROY**

It's going to Steve, I just know it, I just freaking know it!

The worst part is that tonight everything aligned. Steve was on his way out, he was forced into the booth ahead of Aunt Grandma, he had all but lost, but I voted too early. If I had just waited a few more minutes to make sure, it would be a tie.

There's no way that Andy voted for Steve. I can just feel it in my gut.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **AUNT GRANDMA**

Okay, okay. So maybe Wendy messed up. That's okay, that's fine, Andy will vote with me and it will head to a tiebreaker, and I'll win the tiebreaker.

It's fine. Everything is fine. I mean, I gave Andy the win to show I trust him. He wouldn't betray me, right?

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **ANDY FRENCH**

Chris tosses the marshmallow to me. I catch it automatically, because I'd be too shocked to do so otherwise.

Chris grins. "Yeah. I wasn't going to forget to give out the marshmallows to people who _actually won_. So, Wendy, here you go."

Chris tosses her a marshmallow and then reaches beneath the podium and pulls out one last marshmallow.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

We all stare at Chris as he drinks in the attention. He's drawing this out for as long as he can, and I know that this whole game hinges on Andy's vote.

I know Wendy tried to vote me off. I mean, I saw it, sitting there in the ballot box. So I dropped it into the toilet and replaced it with my own vote. But I don't really know if I can win a tiebreaker. I suppose it's possible, depending on what it is, but Aunt Grandma is stronger and more talented than you'd expect from a woman wearing rainbow suspenders and a propeller beanie.

Chris continues to hold the marshmallow aloft until, with a flick of his wrist he sends it soaring through the air.

It bounces off of my lab coat and lands on the ground.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **AUNT GRANDMA**

 _i'm sitting by myself on top of a hill_

 _it's calm here, it's springtime, and i'm perfectly fine_

 _except i feel incredibly sad and i don't know why_

 _i'm surrounded by natural beauty, i feel comfortable, everything seems just right for me_

 _so why aren't i happy?_

 _why aren't i happy?_

 _why am i_

 _never_

 _happy_

 _?_

 _"you know that was a really nice gift you gave me"_

 _i turn my head and see a little boy with thick glasses standing there_

 _"the Les Paul, it was a nice gift"_

 _i smile at him since he seems familiar but somehow i can't place him_

 _"but you know, i've thought about it, and well, it wasn't really what i needed"_

 _what's he talking about_

 _"it's cool and all, and i'd definitely be a less awesome guitar player without it since my parents didn't want to buy me a guitar. but i was in the guitar store the other day, picking up some strings, and i saw a used guitar, humbuckers, decent hardware, the whole nine yards. i think it was an Epiphone SG. and it was cheap comparatively, only a couple hundred dollars._

 _i didn't buy it. and that's not just because i don't have a couple hundred dollars. it's because i have a really great guitar already and you gave it to me. but see, i was thinking about that and you gave me what i wanted"_

 _what's wrong with that?_

 _"and Uncle Grandpa, well, he gave me what i needed. sure, maybe i needed a guitar, but i needed to have that experience of actually, really, you know, rocking out, and he gave me that. in the weirdest way possible. and you could never do that._

 _i mean, you're great and all, but this thing you have with Uncle Grandpa is..._

 _well, it's creepy. and weird. and you don't need to do that. i mean, just imagine what would happen if you joined forces. he could do the weird out-of-this-world stuff and you could set up the groundwork or make sure that kids got to follow up on things._

 _like, if Uncle Grandpa had just taken me on that adventure and i never had a guitar, i suppose i wouldn't be any closer to actually being a rock star apart from really wanting to. but if you had just given me the guitar and nothing else i don't know that i would've worked as hard as i have. so maybe...forgive him? quit being so angry? work together?_

 _i don't know. i just was thinking about it and this whole rivalry thing you have going on kind of seems like it's hurting both of you. i don't know. maybe not. but..._

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY CORDUROY**

"...and you, Andy, you complete idiot! I showed you I trusted you, and you turned on me? You moron! You couldn't even see that he was a cheater? Oh, and Wendy, why couldn't you have _made sure_ Steve voted first? It would have been so easy! You just wait by the confessional to make sure! But that concept must be to complex for an Oregon hick like you! I'm surrounded by morons! Incompetent, idiotic morons! The smartest person here is Steve, and I doubt he's had an original thought in his life!"

Aunt Grandma finished her rant by screaming and launching herself at Steve.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

Instinctively, I throw myself backwards and shield my face with my arms. Nothing happens, though, and after a few seconds I lower my arms and see Chef holding her back at she strains and struggles to get at me.

"Well, that was the most dramatic campfire ceremony we've had in a while," Chris says brightly as Chef carries Aunt Grandma away. "Not surprising, since I hosted it. That's why they pay me the big bucks, folks. I bring in the drama. And believe you me, there's going to be even more drama, on Total Drama! We're down to three, and believe you me, you won't want to miss the spectacular last few episodes of Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"

* * *

Voting Breakdown:

Wendy Corduroy: Aunt Grandma  
Steve: Aunt Grandma  
Aunt Grandma: Steve  
Andy: Aunt Grandma

Final tally of votes cast:

Aunt Grandma: 3  
Steve: 1


	48. The Surfer Girl

**Enter...  
STEVE**

I wake up. Andy is staring at me. As soon as he notices that I'm awake he shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep.

I lie there for a few more minutes and think about calling him on it. Why would Andy be awake earlier than me? More importantly, why was he staring at me? What's going on there? But I decide to let it go. Let Andy pretend he was sleeping. I don't need to press at him. And maybe I was just paranoid and he just looked like he was staring at me when I woke up. Maybe it was a trick of the light.

I get dressed and head over to the cafeteria for breakfast. On my way there, I can't help but think about it some more, and I realize that I was right the first time. Andy was staring at me. I just don't know why.

I open the doors of the cafeteria. As soon as I do, Wendy swivels around to glare at me. I try to ignore her, but it's hard to do that since she just keeps staring at me angrily as I make my way through the serving line, get my food, and sit down. I eat my flavorless slop as she continues to glare.

This is not the optimal outcome. Getting rid of Aunt Grandma was a definite plus, true. But the fallout is that Wendy now appears to be gunning for me, Andy may not trust me anymore, and it's not even the finale yet. I need a win, and fast. As soon as my ticket is stamped, it should be a toss-up no matter who I end up going against.

But I need to get there first. To make it a 50-50 game, I have to make it past either Andy or Wendy. Which makes today possibly the most vital day I've had to play yet.

Who am I kidding? They're all vital.

The door to the cafeteria opens. Andy walks in. He looks like he just got out of bed since his hair is rumpled and he has a dazed look on his face. The only thing that gives away the fact that he didn't just wake up are his eyes. They're completely clear and ready for the day.

So, Andy is definitely awake. He's been awake for awhile. I know for certain that I didn't imagine him staring at me this morning. Which means I might have two people working against me in a three-person game.

I just need to hope that whomever's giving out the challenge today plays to my strengths. I watched the whole run of Total Drama multiple times after I got booted out last time. I just need to figure out who's left. I've been keeping notes on who's hosted what so far ever since I learned we'd be getting everybody back to host, which means that there aren't many options left. So let's see. I'm pretty sure we've had everyone from Revenge except Dawn and Mike show up. And I know we haven't seen Max or Scarlett yet. Of those four, I guess Scarlett would be best. Sure, she's dangerously psychotic, but she's also smart. Like I said, I'm trying to play to my strengths. And since Alejandro just showed up and we already had challenges from Sierra and Blaineley, that only leaves somebody from Island as the other options.

So who haven't we seen from that season yet?

My question is answered when the door to the cafeteria opens again and Bridgette walks in toting a surfboard under her arms. She waves at us casually.

"Hey, guys," she says. "How are you doing?"

None of us answer her. We just continue to stare at her. She nods.

"I understand," she says. "Geoff told me it was a pressure cooker when he got to the final six, and just getting past the merge was like, super stressful for me. Although that might have had something to do with Heather...and Geoff maybe being my boyfriend...but yeah. Anyway. I can tell you're all stressed, so today, I thought we'd kick back, relax, and do a little surfing. How does that sound?"

We all stare at her silently for a few seconds. Bridgette rolls her eyes.

"Yes, one of you will win immunity," she says. "Sheesh. Now finish your breakfast, wait half an hour, get your swimsuits on, and meet me on the beach!"

* * *

I'm alone in the cabin as I tug off my clothes. Andy has already come and gone, only pausing to grab something out of his suitcase and muttering something about wanting to hit the showers first. Honestly, that's probably for the best. It's always awkward when two guys get naked together.

No no no no no I do not need to remember that image.

No.

Stop it, brain. Stop showing me naked Dr. Weird.

Dammit.

I finish stripping and sigh. I really should have gotten myself a new swimsuit instead of spending all that time watching past episodes of Total Drama. I mean, I know it was helpful since it helped me figure out I could just cheat through every voting elimination, and it's definitely been a big help this year when it comes to guessing what each challenger is going to give us–although, since I don't know the order, I can't really prepare for what's going to happen before somebody arrives. And yes, not many challenges take place where we have to wear swimsuits. But I still probably should have gotten myself a decent pair of swim trunks. Instead, I'm just going to have to go out there in my ratty old underwear and hope I don't look too stupid.

Also I have to hope I don't drown since I'm not a very good swimmer.

Great, there goes that worry. Just what I needed after Topher decided to bring back all those horrible memories. Who knew he was a theme park freak?

I have to quit stalling, though, so I muster up my courage and head down to the beach. Wendy and Bridgette are already waiting there, dressed in bathing suits. Bridgette gives me an odd look when I arrive but thankfully doesn't say anything. However, it's not long before the attention is taken off of me when Andy walks up wearing a pair of tight pink rubber shorts.

I repeat, he's wearing a pair of tight pink rubber shorts. With some sort of cutesy anime-style animal on the ass.

One of us must be having a mental breakdown. One of us _must_ be having a mental breakdown. Either I'm hallucinating, or Andy actually packed and brought a pair of tight pink rubber shorts as his swimwear. Which is weird, because I'm pretty sure he had regular swim trunks last time we had to do something in the water. Although I wasn't paying that much attention, so maybe not.

Whatever. I just have to get through this without dying. Forget about Andy's fabulous pink ass and focus on the game, Steve. Focus on the game. That's all you have to do.

"Okay, everyone," Bridgette says. "Who here knows how to surf?"

None of us put our hands up. She puts her hands on her hips.

"Really?" she asks disbelievingly. "None of you?"

"There aren't a lot of waves in central Oregon," Wendy admits.

"Yeah, and Jersey isn't really surf central," I add.

Andy shrugs. "I just wasn't ever interested."

Bridgette sighs. "Fine. I guess I'll teach you all to surf."

* * *

Bridgette spends the next couple of hours teaching us the basics of how to surf. Most of it just flies by me because I'm not really that coordinated, but I do get some of the basics: be sure to stand up only after the wave starts coming in, and surfing is really about balance more than anything. By the end of it, I'm no more confident about my ability to make it past this thing. As it stands, my only hope is that Andy does worse, and that seems like a pretty long shot.

Honestly, I'm almost okay with losing. I mean, I never really expected to make it this far anyway, right?

Right?

Yeah, I'm fine with losing. It happens. There were twelve of us when we started out and only one of us could win. I had an 8.33% chance or close to it when we started. There's no shame in not being able to convert that into a 50% chance. And maybe Andy will beat Wendy. Probably not, but maybe.

I'm not okay with what's going to happen, but I've made peace with it. I can deal with losing. Again.

Bridgette walks up in front of us. She stands there proudly.

"Okay, guys," she says. "I think it's time for you to prove that you've learned what I've taught you."

"Meaning?" I ask nervously.

Bridgette smiled. "We're going to hit the waves!"

We look out at the water. It's as calm as ever.

"Uh, how are we going to do that without any, you know, waves?" Andy asks.

"Don't worry," Bridgette says. "Chris promised he'd make a big wave when we were all in position. Besides, I'll be out there with you, just in case."

"That just in case doesn't sound good," I say worriedly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure nothing will hurt us," Bridgette says.

"Except the man-eating sharks?" Wendy suggests.

Bridgette sighs. "I'm sure Chris wouldn't...okay, fine. Except the man-eating sharks. But have they ever eaten anybody?"

We look at each other wordlessly.

"Yeah," Bridgette says. "It's as safe as pretty much anything else you can do on this island."

None of us say anything for about half a minute. Then Andy shrugs.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he says. "Let's go surfing!"

Bridgette cheers and leads us out into the water.

* * *

We paddle about a quarter mile offshore. By the time Bridgette tells us we're ready, I'm exhausted.

"Did we really need to go this far out?" Andy asks, also sounding tired.

"Well, Chris did say he was sending a big wave," Bridgette says. "Since you already lost one of your cabins, I figured we'd play it safe."

"That's...actually a pretty good idea," Wendy says. "So we're going to see a wave?"

"Any second now, I think," Bridgette says.

We wait for a few minutes. But then, we start feeling a rumble in the water underneath us.

"This is it!" Bridgette calls.

We all begin paddling farther out, and we see something approaching: a wall of water.

"Oh, shi–" Bridgette manages to get out.

The wall of water hits us, and I manage to keep the board afloat and climb to my feet. I'm sure I don't look calm and composed, but goddammit, I am _riding_ this wave, and for the first time today I understand what Bridgette sees in this sport. I get why she was talking about the exhilaration of being on top of a powerful force of nature and letting it carry you. I finally realize what she meant about becoming one with the wave.

And then my balance starts to fail and I fall off into the water.

The wave pushes me under. No matter how hard I try swimming to the surface, it just gets farther and farther away. Slowly, sunlight gets dimmer, and I find myself sinking into blackness. Or maybe I'm just sinking, and the blackness is suffocation taking my sight.

After everything Dr. Weird put me through, I'm going to die surfing.

And, well, you know what?

This feels...

...perfect.

Like my life has been one big joke. And what's the best way to end a joke?

An anticlimax.


	49. The Eye Candy

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

Bridgette fished him out, because of course she did. She's too nice of a person to let him drown.

Okay, admittedly, I would have done the same thing as soon as I quit trying to get out of that deathtrap called surfing. I mean, I'm a trained lifeguard, and while Steve may be a jerk, he doesn't deserve to die.

Trust me, I know what somebody has to do for them to truly deserve to die.

So Steve made it out okay, which is probably a good thing overall. And yeah, I didn't want him to die. But because Bridgette didn't want to declare anybody a winner since, y'know, Steve almost died, once again we ended up having a campfire ceremony where all of us were on the chopping block. Which basically sealed my fate.

I'm not stupid. I knew as soon as Bridgette declared that nobody was getting eliminated by her hand and that nobody was getting immunity, and when Chris came up to say that because of this we were going to have a campfire ceremony tonight, that I had no chance in hell of winning it all. I mean, let's be real. Andy would have to be a pretty big idiot to think that he'd stand a better chance against me than against Steve in whatever competition ends up being the finale. And even if he was that dumb, or if he realized that Steve _was_ cheating a little bit too late, well, Steve would still probably go in after him, switch the votes, and send me home.

Besides, at this point in the competition, it doesn't really matter. The best chance any of us had to get rid of Steve was basically yesterday, and I mucked that up. I still don't know how Andy won immunity, but really, it doesn't matter. We almost got Steve to go home.

Almost.

But instead, it's me against Andy and Steve in a vote. There's something my freaky history teacher likes to say about democracy, how it's two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner. Well, in this case, he's right. Fuck those wolves.

This is the kind of stuff that ran through my head as I lay on the bed, bone-tired. I am not used to paddling through a bunch of water, facing down a wave, almost drowning but managing to stay balanced on a thin sheet of...whatever it was. I want to say plastic but I don't really know. Or care. Point is, when you crash into the beach after surviving all that, your body aches and you just want to lie down.

Sleep wouldn't come, though. I hadn't slept well the previous night, either, if we're being honest. I mean, I basically gave Steve a free ticket to the finale with my screwup. Today was my last chance to stop him–at least, I assume it was–and I failed. Or Bridgette failed by not making it an elimination challenge, but that's not on her, I guess.

The last twenty hours or so have just sucked, let's put it like that. They were going fantastically when I didn't have to participate in the challenge, when I got to sleep in, when I was actually sleeping...but ever since Steve showed up at the campfire ceremony when I was already there, everything has sucked. It's moments like these that really bring out why Camp Wawanakwa just gets worse the longer I stay here. It's not just the challenges, it's not just the food, it's not just, you know, the fact that it's a run-down summer camp.

It's the people. Sure, some of them are weird and annoying. Okay, a lot of them are weird and annoying. Well, annoying. I've seen some pretty weird people in my time. But despite that, or perhaps because of that, some of them become your friends, some of them become your allies, some of them become your enemies. And just when that's settled–when you know who your friends and allies are and you know who your enemies and opponents are–they just start to disappear. Either they disappear, or you disappear, but everybody just fades away. And all too often, you have to choose who leaves so that it isn't you, which means that sooner or later, you have to get rid of your friends.

Thinking about this made me feel guilty. Because, if I'm being perfectly honest with myself, I did the same thing. The last time around, I had a choice to make between sticking with Triana or going over and making friends with Nazz and the other girls. Sure, we weren't really friends after Ruby left, and we never had that much in common, but I threw her under the bus. I wanted to make sure that they knew I was with them all the way.

The funny thing is, that was probably the tipping point for Nazz, and that's why she betrayed me. It's weird to think I have anything in common with that bitch, but, well, here we are. It's a game where everybody stabs everyone else in the back eventually. If they don't, they get stabbed.

I can almost respect Steve at this point. He found a way to circumvent the entire process. Instead of playing petty politics, he decided to be a secret dictator. He decided to stay in the shadows, avoid making too much of a spectacle of himself, and decide who gets to stay and who gets to go. It was sick, underhanded, and wouldn't have worked if Chris was actually competent at his job. But it worked, and that's the one thing I can't change. So while I hate Steve for what he did, for how he cheated...well, I'm out of anger.

I've been angry for too long. I was angry at Nazz. Then I was angry at Boris. Then I was angry at Boris and Nazz. Then I thought I might win, then I was angry at Steve for cheating. But none of it has gotten me anywhere. I'm just stressed and angry and upset.

Eventually I quit trying to work things out and headed to dinner. My last meal was the usual thing: flavorless slop. I chewed my way through it without even tasting it and looked around the room. Andy and Steve weren't sitting together, but for all I knew, that was because they were preparing to compete against each other tomorrow. I knew I'd probably root for Andy, even though I wasn't too thrilled about how it all played out. Still, I didn't want to see Steve win. Cheaters shouldn't prosper, right?

Dinner had to end sometime, though, and we all headed off to cast our votes. I ended up in line behind Steve, and I considered my prospects as he entered the confessional booth. I _could_ just cheat. I could just go in there and switch the ballots to make sure Steve would get voted off. It'd be poetic, too. He'd have cheated his way all the way to the finale and then ended up losing because somebody cheated him. It probably wouldn't be that hard to pull off, either. After all, Steve's been doing it all this time without leaving any traces.

When I entered the booth, I just stared at the box. I could cheat. I could tip the scales in my favor. I could get myself into the finale.

But then I decided not to cheat. It just wasn't something I could go through with. This wasn't life or death, it was a stupid game show. So yeah, Steve can win. Whatever. At least I played fairly.

And wouldn't it just be hilarious if Andy ended up winning anyway?

So I dropped my ballot for Steve into the box and headed off to the campfire ceremony. I waited there for about five minutes before somebody finally arrived: a gorgeous hunk of Hawaiian man-meat. Yes, it was Justin.

I had never really gotten the whole Justin thing before. I mean, sure, he was attractive, but on a TV screen, he was just another pretty face. In person, yeah, in person it was pretty obvious how he got sharks to give him CPR. I mean, the man was gorgeous! Honestly, if I had to lose at any campfire ceremony, this one is the one I would have chosen if I'd know just how good he looks. I mean, those glittering eyes, that perfect hair, those muscular arms, the pecs poking out of his wide-necked shirt...yeah. Totally worth the price of admission.

"Okay," Justin said calmly. "Nice to see all of you here again. Can't say it's nice to be back here, but hey. As long as I'm not putting my perfect looks in danger, I'm just fine with that. So. Let's get started, shall we?"

He held up a marshmallow. "I believe we all know the rules. Only two of you will receive a marshmallow, the ultimate symbol of safety, a promise that you'll keep on playing until at least tomorrow. So I want to make one thing perfectly clear: tonight, there was no tie. There will be no tiebreakers. Somebody here did not get any votes against them, and that somebody was...Andy!"

Andy grinned and caught the marshmallow Justin threw him.

"So, that leaves one person to get this one," Justin said. "I should probably draw out the tension, but I have a night shoot to get to and my ride leaves soon, so, Steve. Here you go."

Steve grabbed for the marshmallow, fumbled it, and ended up catching it before it hit the ground. I stood up reluctantly, and Justin walked over to me. He extended a hand, inviting me to take it.

"Wendy, I'm sorry," he said. Then, just as I reached for his hand, he switched hands quickly and put something else in my hand. It took me a few seconds to register the shape, but as soon as I did, a shiver of disgust ran through me. I couldn't believe it. He had just put his–

"Sorry, but you're going to the finale!" Justin said, interrupting my train of thought. I finally decided to look down and realized that he had put a hot dog in my hand.

The Weiner of Victory.

"That's right!" Chris said, popping up out of nowhere. "Tonight's vote was to decide which of you three would get to go on, and which two of you would have to duke it out tomorrow to keep your hopes of winning ten million alive. So Steve, Andy, sorry to say this–okay, not really, but anyway–tomorrow, one of you will be going home! And the other one will be facing off against Wendy!" He turned and pointed to a camera. "So who's gonna make it and who's gonna lose? Find out next time, here on Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! The Inevitably Disappointing Sequel!"


	50. The Loner

**Enter...  
ANDY FRENCH**

"WHO'S READY FOR PANCAKES?" Chris yells through the intercom.

I wake up groaning. It takes a few minutes for his words to register in my brain. They only click after I check the time. 6 A.M.

Pancakes? What?

I get my clothes on and head outside next to Steve. Wendy is already waiting there for us, looking tired and grumpy. Rounding out everybody is Chris, who is standing there looking fresh as a daisy with his usual self-satisfied grin on his face.

"So, glad to see you're all up," Chris says. "Now, I know you all wanted to sleep in. So I got you up, since it's funnier that way. But hey, at least it's not going to be wasted, because Chef's making pancakes. Good ones this time! So, if you like pancakes, go ahead and stuff your faces. Trust me. You're gonna need the energy. Well, not you, Wendy. You can go ahead and go back to bed."

Wendy groans. "Too late. I'll just take the pancakes."

"Good choice," Chris says. "Now get down to the mess hall. We need to get you fed before you have to start today's challenge. And believe me, she's going to get here pretty early in the morning, so you'd better eat fast."

* * *

As I eat my pancakes at breakfast, I'm thinking about all kinds of things. Well, one thing, really, but everything else stems from that. I'm thinking about the competition.

I mean, final three, right? Who would have ever guessed that Andy French would make it to the final three in any reality show? Not me. Probably nobody else. Well, maybe my brother. He always did have that sort of blind faith in me, even if he did think I was an idiot. But everybody else? They'd expect me to get voted out quickly. I know I did. And yeah, that happened the first time around, but I'm pleasantly surprised at how things have played out this time.

Besides that, I'm trying to figure out how many pancakes to eat. I mean, they're good, no doubt about that. Frankly, I'm kind of surprised that Chef can cook this well, because these are some of the best pancakes ever. They're not quite as good as pancakes you eat when you're drunk and trying to stave off a hangover–no pancakes are ever as good as those–but these ones are, well, they're pretty great. But I'm not sure how many I should eat. I mean, I don't want to be puking during the contest today.

Which is the other thing I'm thinking about. It's funny, you know? Last night, I figured it would be me and Steve competing against each other for ten million dollars. And, well, that's exactly what's happening today. It's just that I expected it to be us competing with each other directly, not competing with each other for a chance to face Wendy.

Life is strange sometimes.

So as all this stuff is running through my head and I polish off my third pancake, the doors swing open and some goth chick walks in. I'm pretty sure it's not the same one from my dream a few days ago, the one who told me to keep an eye on Chris, but I can't really tell since I wasn't really paying attention. I'm not sure why that stuck in my head, if I'm being honest. I almost never remember my dreams. And yet I get the sense that it was important.

Even if it is, though, I can't focus on it right now, because a, I'm in the middle of a competition for ten million dollars, b, Chris is barely ever around, c, I have to focus on what _this_ goth chick is saying, and d, _I'm in the middle of a competition for ten million dollars_.

The chick walks to the center of the mess hall and looks around.

"Huh," she says. "Same crappy camp, same Chef, same...say, where's Chris?"

Chris strolls in through the front doors. "Right here. So, Gwen, you ready to start today's challenge?"

"Not really," she says. "I'd rather start this in the afternoon. You know, when everyone's gotten some sleep?"

Chris snickers. "I know. But I figured I'd let you get this started early."

"Wait," Steve says. "You didn't want to start in the morning?"

"Of course not!" Gwen says. "What idiot wants to do one of these challenges in the morning?"

"Apparently, you," Chris says. "Or else you would have invoked the clause in your contract that allows you to choose when to start the challenge. But, since you didn't, I chose for you."

Gwen glares at him. "Have I told you how much I hate you?"

"Not recently," Chris says. "But please do. It makes me feel oh so very wonderful to know I'm making a difference."

Gwen turns away from him and back to us. "So anyway, yeah, you're going to be doing three challenges. Or maybe just two, since the best two of three win."

"Nah, have them do all three," Chris says. "If one of them wins the first two, we'll just have them do the third and let the loser win so we can splice it between the first two."

"No," Gwen says. "Not happening."

"Oh?" Chris asks. "And why not?"

"Because Beardo told everybody about what's in the contracts," Gwen says. "So no. Not happening."

"Fricking–fricking Beardo, always ruining my fun," Chris grumbles.

"Yeah, whatever," Gwen says. "So which of you lost yesterday?"

Steve and I slowly raise our hands.

"Okay then," Gwen says. "We'll start on the beach, with a challenge that plays to Steve's strengths. See you in...fifteen minutes good?"

We nod.

"Good," she says.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, we're all on the beach. Gwen and Chris are waiting for us, and Wendy has come along to watch.

"Okay," Gwen says. "This first challenge is supposed to be something Steve is good at. So, you two are going to..." she looks at a piece of paper. "Turn coal into diamonds?" She looks at Chris angrily. "Okay. Explain."

Chris smirks. "I talked to his boss."

"Ex-boss!" Steve says angrily.

"Ex-boss," Chris corrects himself. "And the guy said Steve was a tight-ass. So I figured, hey, if Steve can turn coal into diamonds, it'll help offset some of the production costs of this show."

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Right. So do you have a backup plan?"

"I do, actually," Chris says. "Numbuh Two gave me the idea."

"What idea?" Gwen and Steve ask at the same time.

Chris grins and presses a button. A giant mechanical rabbit explodes out of the beach in front of us.

"Whichever one of you that gets captured first loses!" Chris yells. "And watch out! The bunny is angry!"

We don't need any more instructions. We both take off, running in the same direction: away from the giant robot rabbit. We're both making good time, and I'm actually starting to open up a lead on Steve when he suddenly grabs my arm. I lose my balance and start windmilling, and it's made worse when he releases me after half a second and charges ahead. I'm left trying to catch my balance, and I'm completely flat-footed when the paw of the rabbit comes down and grabs me.

The rabbit thrusts me into the air and holds me aloft. Its head opens up, revealing a long-haired Japanese girl with a huge smile on her face.

"Yes!" she cheers. "I won I won I won! Yippie!"

"Yeah, great," Chris says. "Good job, Numbuh Three. Steve, you get the first challenge, but this next challenge is going to favor Andy."

"Wait, hold on," I say. "Am I at least going to be let down from here?"

The rabbit's paw unlocks and I fall onto the ground.

"Thanks..." I say weakly.

"All part of a day's work for Numbuh Three and Hippie-Hop!" she says happily. The rabbit hops away.

"Hold on," Wendy says. "Are you telling me there's a Numbuh Three _and_ a Numbuh Two? What's next, Numbuh Four?"

"He's Australian," Chris says. "And that's not the point! The point is...Gwen, what's the next challenge?"

Gwen unfolds another piece of paper. "Get your brother to admit he mas–ew, gross!"

"I don't have a brother," Steve says.

"Wait," I say. "How did you know about that? There weren't any reporters in the courtroom."

"Uh–yeah!" Chris says awkwardly. "How about that. Um, so, yeah, uh, let's do something different. Like cartooning! You're a cartoonist, right Andy?"

"Well..." I say uncomfortably. I mean I am, but, c'mon, I don't really get published.

"And Gwen wants to go to art school or something stupid like that," Chris continues. "So yeah. You two will have an hour to draw a single-panel cartoon, and Gwen will judge it. How does that sound, Gwen?"

Gwen flips him off. "I still hate you."

"So..." Chris prompts.

Gwen sighs. "I'll do it."

* * *

After an hour of work, I've finally churned out something I'm satisfied with.

Maybe satisfied is too strong a word. I only had an hour to work on it, I didn't come up with a great idea–and by that, I mean I ripped off a joke I've heard before–but I did draw it pretty well. I'm mostly satisfied with the art. And, well, at least it's complete at the deadline. That counts, right?

"Well, it's been an hour," Chris announces. "Gwen, go ahead and give us the word?"

Gwen walks up behind me and eyes my panel. I chew my bottom lip nervously and avoid looking at her.

"So the lawyer is a wolf and the client is a cow to symbolize who's actually getting something to eat, right?" Gwen asks.

I grin. "Yeah. I figured that, you know, wolves eat cows. And a cow can feed a wolf for a while."

"Okay, yeah!" Gwen says. "It's a good gag, too, although I feel like I've heard it before. Steve, what did you do?"

Steve grins and turns his drawing towards us. It is a crude depiction of a nun having her brains blown out with a shotgun.

"...okay..." Gwen says awkwardly. "So...why?"

Steve shrugs. "What, you don't think it's a great idea?"

"Uh..." Gwen says. "It's...okay. Yeah. Andy wins."

"Which means, of course, you two have to do a challenge best suited to Wendy," Chris butts in. He rubs his hands together. "Oh, I have been looking forward to _this_!"

* * *

Chris takes us into the woods. There, he's set up an obstacle course with swinging logs, giant sawblades, swinging chainsaws, tripwires, broken ground, and exposed landmines right before the finish line.

"Okay, _what_ does this have to do with Wendy?" Gwen asks disbelievingly.

Chris grins. "This is an exact replica of the obstacle course Wendy had to go through when she was eight as part of apocalypse training."

"Nine, actually," Wendy corrects. "The one I had to go through when I was eight didn't have any tripwires, and it was more focused on getting me through tight spaces than this one is."

Gwen just stares at her silently with a disbelieving look on her face.

"So, it all comes down to this," Chris says. "Steve and Andy, going through a dangerous and deadly obstacle course, all for a chance at ten million dollars. Who will win? Who will lose? Find out when we come back!"

Chris grins for a few seconds and then turns to us. "So, are you ready?"

"Sure," I say, although I'm not ready at all.

Steve shrugs. "Do we have a choice?"

"You could give up," Chris says. "You know, like you did two days ago."

Steve glares at him. "Fuck that."

Chris grins. "Just what I wanted to hear. Well, maybe not _that_ , exactly, but I like the spirit. Go!"

We stand there uncomfortably. Chris slaps his forehead.

"That means get started, get moving, get on with it!" he says angrily. "Go!"

Steve and I look at each other, shrug, and launch ourselves into the obstacle course. I duck under a swinging axe, scamper past one of the giant sawblades, and barely avoid putting my foot in one of the holes and faceplanting. I weave through the course almost drunkenly, doing my best to keep an eye on everything around me while not letting it sink in that I could actually die.

I'm completely unsuccessful at this, as I'm reminded when a chainsaw whizzes by inches from my nose. I let out a short scream and duck under its path before leaping over a log. Somehow, though, I manage to make it to the end, just a little bit away from the the landmines. I take a deep breath and get ready to take a running start.

I take off and barely make it two steps before tripping over an outstretched leg. As I start to push myself up, I see Steve race past by me and leap over the landmines. He lands safely on the other side and stands up grinning.

"And Steve wins by tripping up his competition!" Chris announces. "Steve. Wendy. Ten million dollars. Who will win? Beats me! But if you want to know, tune in next time, on Total! Drama!"

"Stuff it, McLean," Gwen says. "I'm going home."

"And so is Andy," Chris says smugly. "And so is Andy."


	51. The Supervillain

**Enter...  
WENDY CORDUROY**

I was eating breakfast with Steve when Chris strode in, looking more pleased with himself than usual.

"Good morning, campers," he said happily. "And how are you two doing today?"

Steve swallowed. "Why are you so happy?"

"Because, after this season is over, I finally get to be the full-time host again," Chris said. "I gotta admit, it was kind of fun seeing how badly these amateurs could screw up hosting duties. But it's kept me out of the spotlight for too long."

"Dude, you show up like every day and annoy us," I point out.

"Yeah, but I'm not the center of attention," he said. He chuckled. "I know, I know, it sounds impossible, but it's true. I'm not supposed to be the one everybody's paying attention to. I mean, they still do, because how could they not? Anyway, meet me down at the docks for a huge surprise, pronto."

Steve looked at me. "So who do you think it'll be?"

"I'm guessing Mike," I said. "I mean, there's no way they wouldn't invite a finalist back, right?"

"I think it's Scarlett," Steve said.

"Are you nuts?" I asked. "There's no way they'd let somebody that nuts back on the show."

"Chris is still hosting," Steve pointed out.

"Okay, fair enough," I admitted. "Still, are you sure it's her?"

"I don't know, but she's the one we'd least expect," Steve said.

"But by expecting her...okay, nevermind. Let's not go down that rabbit hole," I said.

"Hey, it's time to go!" Chris said impatiently. "C'mon, I spent a lot of time and a lot of thought into setting this up."

We followed Chris outside.

"You know, you're being nicer to me than I expected," Steve said.

I shrugged. "I can afford to be nice since I'm going to crush you anyway."

"Okay, ouch," Steve said. "But seriously, aren't you mad at me?"

"There's no point in being mad," I said. "Things are the way they are."

"Okay, yeah, this whole zen thing is getting annoying," Chris remarked. We stepped onto the dark. "Fortunately, I have somebody here who is completely un-zen."

Chris gestured to the end of the dock. On one side was a box covered with a red sheet. On the other was a box covered with a gray sheet. Chris walked over to the red box.

"So, since I figured the game could use a shake-up, I'd like to introduce..."

Chris whipped the sheet off of the box in a fluid motion, revealing a cave with a tiny kid in a completely red outfit. The kid laughed evilly.

"It is I, Voltar!" he proclaimed. "Doer of all evil, master of all villainy, and leader, of the League of Super Evil! Mwu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Yep!" Chris said proudly. "We're back to the final three, with the first guy you ever voted out!"

"Okay, that's just wrong!" Steve complained.

"Oh, like you have room to talk," I said.

"Relax," Chris said, walking over to the other box. "I realized that this was a little unfair, bringing back last season's self-proclaimed evilest competitor, so I decided to up the ante by having today's challenge giver be Pahkitew Island's self-proclaimed evilest competitor!"

Chris whipped the sheet off of the other box, revealing Max, also in a cage. Max sniffed at us angrily.

"I demand to be let out of this cage!" he said angrily. "Evil cannot be locked away like some kind of, some kind of misbehaving pet! Evil always runs free, through the streets, screaming loudly and drawing the attention of the neighbors, who look away from the sight in fear!"

"Pretty sure that's embarrassment, actually," Chris said.

"Embarrassment...at how afraid they are!" Max proclaimed.

"No, not at all," Chris said.

"Are you insulting me?" Max asked. "You will pay!"

Chris shook his head. "No, pretty sure I won't."

"Oh, yes you will!" Max said. "Twenty dollars! Now!"

"What?" Chris asked. "You can't–"

"Oh, yes yes yes I can! I read the contract!" Max said. "Now hand over the money!"

Chris grumbled as he got out his wallet and handed over a twenty-dollar bill.

"Yes!" Max proclaimed. "Victory is mine!"

"Hey!" Voltar said angrily. "Victory will be mine! Chris, give me...twenty- _one_ dollars."

"No," Chris said flatly.

"But Chris!" Voltar whined.

"You know what, you're all freaks and this is just going to get stupider," Chris said. "I'm going to go somewhere else to watch this trainwreck." He walked away. "Can't wait until I finally get to host again..."

Max smiled villainously at all of us.

"Minions!" he announced. "Today, you will–"

"I am nobody's minion!" Voltar declared. "I am Voltar, leader of the greatest villain group to ever grace the universe! And you are but a peevish upstart looking to usurp my position! Do you realize what you are, compared to the great Voltar? You are a nobody! You are nothing!"

"Wrong!" Max said. "It is _you_ who is the nobody! I've never even heard of you!"

"Should we do something?" I muttered to Steve.

"Oh _hell_ no!" Steve said.

"Oh heck yes!" Max said.

"Heck?" I asked.

"My mommy doesn't like it when I curse," Max explained.

"Ha!" Voltar said. "Still trying to get mommy's approval? That's sweet, but evil does not need _anyone's_ approval. Now bow! Bow before me!"

"No, bow before me!" Max demanded.

"Wait," I said. "If evil doesn't need anybody's approval, why do you want people bowing before you?"

Voltar and Max looked at each other, confused, and then looked back at me.

"You know nothing of true evil!" they proclaimed simultaneously.

Max nodded approvingly. "Very well, Voltar. With your knowledge of evil, you might make a fine sidekick one day."

"Sidekick?" Voltar said angrily. "I am no sidekick! I am a true evil mastermind, and the leader of the worst group of villains to ever grace Metrotown, the League of Super Evil!"

"Hmmm..." Max said thoughtfully. "That _is_ impressive. But today, you–and those other two people standing over there–must _prove_ their villainous nature by completing a test!"

"A test? Of villainy?" Voltar asked.

"What other test could be given to find someone truly worthy of being my sidekick?" Max asked. "Well, I suppose I could give you certain other tests, but no. Test of villainy, ahoy!"

* * *

We stood at attention as Max pranced around in front of us.

"Would-be sidekicks!" he announced. "Today is a new day for all of you! Today, you dare to reach for the skies, and attempt to become the sidekick for the greatest villain the world has ever known! Today, you audition to be my sidekick! And today, one of you will get that coveted position!"

"Do we even want it?" I asked sarcastically.

"No! No we do not!" Voltar declared. "You all want to be my lackeys. I mean, none of you are going to be as good as...well, none of you are going to be better than...huh."

"Enough of that, possible sidekick!" Max said. "Your first assignment is to come up with a brilliant evil scheme that I can use to take over the world! Now leave, and meet back here in an hour, ready to present your ideas!"

"Oh, you will all rue the day you trifled with the mighty Voltar!" Voltar said. "For I will come up with a plan so brilliant, so malevolent, so devastatingly evil, that all will tremble before me!"

"Don't care," Steve said.

"AAAAAHHH!" Voltar screamed angrily.

"Enough of this nonsense!" Max said. "Begone, imps!"

We all split up. I ended up sitting on the roof of the cabin, trying to come up with a good idea. I mean, there were several things I could have done. The problem was that most of them weren't things I wanted to do, on the off chance that somebody might pursue them.

I don't want to give too much away, because the nightmares still torment me, but living in Gravity Falls, you encounter some weird stuff. I mean, alternate dimensions with megalomaniacal demons who want to take over your world and turn it into a nightmare realm kind of stuff. The kind of things where my dad's decision to put us through apocalypse training instead of having Christmas every year looks like an intelligent, well thought out decision instead of the absolute insanity that it should probably be seen as. So while I could have suggested several evil things involving demon summoning, I didn't want to.

I'll be honest, I don't know _how_ to summon a demon. But I do know that it _is_ possible. And I don't want to go down that road, because even if I come up with something stupid and crazy with no chance of ever actually getting put together, with my luck it'll actually work, and somebody will try it, and then everything will turn out horribly. That's not something I want to do. Ever.

Unfortunately, that hamstrings me, because what am I supposed to suggest? Some kind of genocide or something? He refuses to curse because his mother doesn't like it! I can't do anything too serious, but if I'm too silly he'll think I'm making fun of him. Which, let's be honest, everybody is. Even his fans probably only like him because of how weird and kinda dumb he is.

That's true of most of the people from that season, though. Most of them were–actually, pretty much everyone was weird. I mean, the people on this show are usually kind of strange in some way or another. I live in a town full of weirdos, and I still noticed that. But that season really raised the bar for weird. Besides the evil guy, there were the twins–not my proudest moment–and the germaphobe, the pageant queen and the girl who managed to suck us all into a weird musical. Hell, even the finalists were weird, with the really skilled gymnast and the zombie guy. Honestly, the gymnast may have been the most normal person in that season, but the zombie guy was–

Wait.

That gives me an idea.

* * *

Steve was already there when I got back. He smirked at me.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"You might as well give up," he said. "I came up with a doozy of an evil plan."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh really? Like cheating your way to the final three?"

"No," he said. "I know what people like him want. And believe you me, I'm going to give him what he wants."

I snorted. "Please. How could you know what he wants?"

He looked at me with unblinking eyes. "Trust me. I know."

Voltar strutted up before Steve could get any stranger. "Step aside, second-place losers. For Voltar has come up with another magnificent plan to rule the world! And nobody, and I mean nobody, will stand in my way!" He leered at Steve. "Especially _you_ , STEVE!"

"Why did you just yell my name?" Steve asked.

"Oh, you know why, STEVE," Voltar said.

"No, I really don't," Steve said.

"Oh really? Should I tell you, STEVE?" Voltar asked.

Steve shrugged. "Nah. I don't care."

Voltar made a sound of immense annoyance and anger. Before he could do anything, though, Max strode up, munching on a bag of chips.

"Okay, minions," he declared. "Give me your plans, and we'll see which one of you is qualified to be my sidekick. Starting with you." He pointed at me. "Give me something good. No, something bad! Something more than bad! Something... _evil_."

I nodded. I'd spent the last hour working out an entire plan that Max would think was amazing. All I had to do was convince him it could work.

"My idea is a virus," I began. "But not just any kind of virus. A very special virus that will turn people into shambling, mindless zombies. They'll walk like zombies, move like zombies, and seem exactly like zombies, and the only antidote will be in your hands. But you won't use it at first. Instead, you will just let the virus spread and spread across the globe. As the zombies continue to advance, a sense of hopelessness and panic will set in among the populace. But then, just when everything seems lost, you will rise with your antidote, turn the tide of the war on zombies, and become the conqueror of the world! Everyone will fall in line behind you, and you can crush them with an iron fist!"

Max looked at me silently.

"That's all," I said. Hopefully it would be good enough.

Max took a deep breath. "That was...the dumbest idea I've ever heard! Everybody knows zombies aren't real, duh! And here I had such high hopes that you might become my sidekick. Oh well. You! In the dumb coat!"

"What?" Steve asked.

"You're up," he said. "Do _not_ disappoint me!"

"Okay," Steve said. "My plan is much more complex."

"Ooh, good!" Max said. "Evil _loves_ complexity."

"Then prepare yourself for this!" Steve said. "The first thing you will do is acquire gold bullion and connections with which to sell it. You will then travel the world in your private plane and sell the bullion for massive profits by smuggling it from country to country by incorporating it into the bodywork of your plane. Then, once you've acquired plenty of money, you will buy all the gold you can. With all your riches converted into gold, you will then hide several bombs rigged up to radioactive material inside of Fort Knox. When the weapon is set off, the gold will become untouchable and unreachable, since it will be contaminated with radioactivity. The price of gold will skyrocket, and with the wealth you earn from your timely investment, you can set up your own gigantic private army and conquer the world!"

Did Steve just steal the plot of _Goldfinger_? Because that sounded almost _exactly_ like the plot of _Goldfinger_.

"That. Is. Genius!" Max proclaimed.

"He just stole the plot of _Goldfinger_!" I complained.

"You mean somebody else did it first?" Max asked.

"Yes! It was a movie! Back in like, the sixties or something!" I said angrily.

Max's face turned red. "You cheater! You want me to use an evil plot somebody else has already taken?"

"What could be more evil than plagiarism?" Steve asked.

Voltar gasped. "Ooh, he _is_ good."

"I do _not_ do things that have already been done!" Max said angrily. "I'm completely original! No cliches, no hackneyed schemes, nothing but pure, unfettered evil!" He paused for a second. "But at least your plan was possible, unlike Wendy's stupid zombie idea."

"Oh come on!" I complained.

"So! Voltar! Give me something good! It is time...to EVIL!" Max declared.

"Thank you," Voltar said. "Now, the rest of you, prepare to be amazed, for your feeble attempts at evil will surely look like...uh...something stupid after you hear _my_ evil plan!" He paused dramatically. "My plan is the pinnacle of all evil that has ever been seen on this foolish show!"

"Wrong!" Max said. "The pinnacle of all evil on this show is obviously me!"

"Oh, don't tempt me," Voltar muttered. "Anyway, what we do is, we create a giant sun magnet!"

We all looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

"And?" Steve finally prompted.

"And the earth hurtles into the sun, _duh_!" Voltar said.

We all stared at him, dumbstruck. There's no way he thought that was going to win.

"That's _brilliant_!" Max declared.

"I know," Voltar said casually.

WHAT? He thought THAT was brilliant? Everybody would die, including them! It was the stupidest plan ever!

"It's pretty obvious who won here," Max said. "Voltar, you are my new sidekick!"

"Not so fast," Chris said, appearing out of nowhere. "You're not actually getting a sidekick."

"What?" Max asked, shocked. "But–evil! And–"

"Yeah don't care, get off my island," Chris said. "Voltar, as the winner, you get to chose who you face off against in the finale. Is it going to be Steve or Wendy?"

"Well, Chris, Steve is obviously my nemesis," Voltar said. "So I want to crush him like nobody else has ever been crushed before, ever, in the history of ever!"

"So...Wendy?" Chris guessed.

"Of course not, you dolt!" Voltar said angrily. "I will face off against Steve, all by myself, and I will crush him into dust! He will bow before me, and he will finally–"

"Don't care," Steve said, walking away.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Voltar screamed.

"So, Wendy..." Chris said to me smarmily. "The Dock of Shame awaits. In about an hour, because we still have to get rid of Max. But go ahead and pack your bags–wait, we destroyed all your luggage. Oh well. I guess you're leaving empty-handed in every way."

I looked at Chris and decided to do something I'd been wanting to do for two seasons.

I flipped him off.


	52. The Quiet Brainiac

**Enter...  
STEVE**

That worked out a lot better than I thought it would. I don't just mean the evil competition, I mean the whole competition. Total Drama. Who would have guessed that I'd make it to the finale in the second season? I've gotta believe that the odds weren't in my favor at any point. And yet, here I am. Final two, again. Sure, it's a bit of a letdown not to have won it all today, since I was led to believe it would be me against Wendy in the finale. But me against Voltar is just as good, since the finale always comes down to one specific, late-breaking moment.

Seriously, I can't believe this worked. I mean, I figured that if I got to come back and put my plan in motion, Chris wouldn't say anything at the start. He'd probably let it slide for long enough that I could engineer the eliminations of a couple of my biggest enemies. But then he didn't say anything even as the game went on and I kept rigging the votes. Even though that's in keeping with what I know of him, it was still surprising. But it was more surprising that nobody figured out what I was doing. It should have been pretty obvious that I was getting rid of my enemies and anybody I thought was threatening, but nobody figured it out.

Well, apparently Aunt Grandma did eventually. It took her close to three weeks, but she realized what was going on. Which makes me wonder whether I would have been better served by getting rid of her earlier. Of course, I didn't have many opportunities, and Ruby turning in a blank vote _did_ save my bacon that one time I accidentally went into the booth first, but I still wonder whether I should have gotten rid of her earlier.

But then, I did have to get rid of other people instead. Elise had to go for tricking me. Marlowe had to go for voting me off. Dale might have been an okay person, but he was getting suspicious. Even if I had convinced him to flush Aunt Grandma, he might have realized what was going on anyway. I had to vote him off then. And then I had to get rid of Nazz, and I didn't get a chance to actually vote somebody off until Snidely came back, and there was no way I could let him have a chance at winning. Not with what he and Elise did to me.

Still, everything worked out in my favor. I even got a better match for the finale because of Chris's gamesmanship. For the first time, I might actually be favored to win it all.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

Ooh, that Steve! He makes me so angry! He thinks he can just waltz through life, all la-de-da-de-da, I'm not frightened of the mighty Voltar, no! I don't care about his big plans, or how he's going to rule the world, or how he's the evilest guy ever! I don't care about anything, because I'm Steve! I don't care that Voltar managed to fend off an alien invasion that was going to start by taking over my skull! I'm Steve, and I don't care! Well guess what, _Steve_? I'm about to _make_ you care. I'm going to take your dream...and crush it! Crush it! Crush it into nothingness! Obliterate it, even! And then, Steve, then we'll see if you still don't care! Oh, we will see, and you will care! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

But right now, I'm bored. Hmm. There has to be something to do around here. I didn't get to find out what it was last time because everybody was so afraid of my evil prowess that they voted me out. But this time, this time I will win! And when I do, everyone will bow before me, the ultimate evil victor of whatever this show is called! Oh, they will bow before me. They will worship me as the god I am, and I will use their worship to rule the world! Yes!

Also I'll probably get rid of those pesky neighbor kids who call me a dork. I'll show them who the real dorks are! I'll show them all!

It's them, by the way. They're the real dorks. _I_ am the super-cool evil genius leader of the League of Super Evil.

And tomorrow, I will prove it, by winning this game! I will be victorious once and for all! Mu-hu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Now where are all the video games? There's gotta be something to do around here. After all, there's no way I'm just going to sit around bored and wait for tomorrow, right? There has to be some form of entertainment on this island. I just have to find out where they keep it.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **WENDY**

The boat left behind a gentle wake as it puttered through the water. It gently bobbed up and down in a rocking motion, and it would have felt relaxing were I not so mad.

You'd be mad too. Just three hours ago, I thought I was in the finale and competing for ten million dollars. Then Voltar comes back, Max gives out a challenge, my...okay, it wasn't that great an idea, but it was better than the plot of _Goldfinger_ or a sun magnet, and yet it was the one he hated the most. So Voltar gets to choose who to go up against, and instead of getting rid of a guy he says he hates, he decides to take that guy to the finale and send me packing. Today has just been a constant series of letdowns. Actually, letdown is too weak of a word. It hasn't been a day of letdowns, it's just been a day where everything continually gets worse.

I know, it's not the worst day I've ever experienced. And it's probably not the worst day I ever will experience, as depressing as that thought is. But that doesn't change the fact that today completely and utterly sucked.

A hand came down on my shoulder and rested there lightly. I looked up and saw Chef standing behind me.

"Who's piloting the boat?" I asked.

"Don't worry about that," Chef said.

"Uh, if we hit a swell, I'm going to be pretty worried," I pointed out.

Chef sighed. "We'll be fine. Trust me. Once you get a bit away from Wawanakwa, everything is normal."

"What about Boney Island?" I asked.

He shrugged. "That was mostly testing grounds for what became Pahkitew."

"Fine," I said. "So if you're not going to actually drive the boat, what do you want?"

Chef stared at the wake for a few seconds before finally speaking.

"I don't do this for everybody," he finally admitted. "I mean, in the first season, I did it for a lot of people as I took them to the Playa. But Chris wasn't exactly fond of me doing that. He said that it might make people smarter, you know, realize where they messed up. I'm pretty sure that's why we hired an actual driver for Action, and why everything after that has been, well, catapults and parachutes and cannons and all."

"So why'd you bring back the boat?" I asked.

"I assume it's the nostalgia angle," Chef said. "I mean, we brought back pretty much everybody who could pass a psychological exam. Or, you know, something like it."

"Something like it?" I asked.

"That's not important," Chef said. "But I mean, Scarlett didn't show up because she's..."

"Yeah, I get that," I said.

"Izzy kept going to her therapist and actually toned it down outside of your challenge," Chef continued. "Which surprised me, because I didn't know she could tone down the crazy."

"She wasn't crazy?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh no, she was mighty crazy," Chef said. "It's just, you know. It's all relative. And Ezekiel would have been allowed to come back, but he didn't want to go back on the show, so we agreed to take him off the list because of emotional stress. He still has to show up for reunion episodes, though."

I stare at the water. "He didn't want to come back?"

"Nope," Chef said. "Can't say I blame him."

Somehow, I got the sense that maybe Ezekiel was smarter than a lot of people thought, because he decided not to come back to a show that had routinely humiliated him. He'd been used as a punching bag for everyone else, made a laughingstock to the world...honestly, why would he come back?

Why would I come back, for that matter? I mean, let's face it. This was probably my best shot at winning, and I'd lost in embarrassing fashion. I'd actually lost thrice in two seasons. If anything, this was all just a waste of time.

"So why'd you come back here, anyway?" I asked.

"To congratulate you," he said.

I stared at him, flabbergasted. "What?"

"Look, I know the villains make the show," Chef admitted. "And I'm not able to influence outcomes unless Chris thinks it would be funny or dramatic. Probably both, given his sick sense of humor. So, when you get right down to it, I'm basically just another piece of furniture on the show. I serve the food, I play the roles that aren't glamorous enough for Chris, I bark at campers, I'm the obvious bad guy to Chris's charismatic, charming, actually evil host character."

"It's a character?" I asked dubiously.

Chef scratched the back of his head. "Honestly, I don't really know. It might be a role he plays, it might've been a mask at one point and now it's the real him, it might've been the real him all along...the point is, I can't pick winners and losers. I can't make sure the good guys win and the bad guys lose. Which is really, really annoying, because I'm almost certain Chris does everything he can to tip the scales toward the bad guys. Usually it's nothing too obvious, but Chris definitely loves letting the villains run loose. Probably because good villains make for great ratings. It's always about the ratings with that guy. But I can't interfere, at least not the way I'd like to. So I can't tell the good guys that, say, the attractive foreign guy is actually evil, or that Mike's gone more nuts than usual, or that maybe there's more to Nazz than meets the eye."

"So you can't tell anybody that Steve is cheating," I said.

"I can't confirm or deny that," Chef said. "Not until after the season airs, at least."

"Gotcha," I said, smirking.

Chef smiles back at me. "Look, what I'm trying to say here is–and I know I keep getting off track–you're one of the people who played the game the right way. I mean, what I view as the right way. Because usually those people, they don't end up winning. They usually don't make it as far as you do."

"That's not true," I said.

"Oh yeah?" Chef challenged me. "Final three, Island: a fat guy nobody cared about, a lying, conniving bitch, and a goth girl who played hard, didn't betray anybody, and basically tried to win fairly and honestly. Gwen's the only one of those three who fits the bill."

"See? That's one already," I pointed out.

"Not done," Chef said. "Final four, Action: a fat guy working undercover for Chris to drive a wedge between everyone, an angry woman who constantly sued the show for special perks, a juvenile delinquent who shoved everyone else out of his way, and a nice girl that managed to get everyone to ignore her until the finale. Final three, World Tour: that same lying conniving bitch, her better-looking male counterpart, and a guy who only got that far because everybody ignored him except for his crazy-strong stalker, who did _her_ best to get him that far. Revenge? All muscle, no brains goes up against all brains, no muscle, goes up against a girl who became so competitive that nobody could trust her. All-Stars? Goth girl again, vs. a guy who stabbed his team in the back all the time his first time around and then managed to survive while everybody else was tripping over themselves to be completely stupid so that girl who went nuts last season can face off against her boyfriend, who oops-a-daisy has gone completely psycho and actually rigged the votes in one contest! And then, Pakhitew...actually, everybody in the final four but Sugar pretty much did things the right way, if we're being honest. But my point is, over the course of six seasons, I only saw three people make the final three that I could legitimately root for to win it all. These last two have upped that count to five. First Ingrid, then you."

He sighed. "If it's not clear by now, I consider the right person to win–the best person to win–someone who doesn't stab anybody in the back, who doesn't cheat, and can actually, you know, win a challenge without having it handed to them. Maybe that doesn't sound like a very high bar to clear, but almost everybody who makes it a reasonable distance in this game fails to clear it. I don't know why. Maybe honesty doesn't pay. Although, then again, in that Don spin-off Chris hates, it did pay decently since Don wasn't rewarding villains for being villainous. Anyway, my point is, you played the game well and you made it pretty far. You should be proud of yourself."

"Proud doesn't get me ten million dollars," I pointed out.

"Trust me," Chef said. "I've been on this show for a long time. People only get their money about half the time, and even when they do, I get the sense that it's not really worth it." He clapped me on the back. "I just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you, and I'm sure everybody you know who watches this show is going to be proud of you too. You did well, Wendy. Don't ever doubt that."

Chef turned around and went back into the boat's cabin. As I stared out on the wake again, I felt much better. All things considered, Chef was right. I played well, I did well, and even if I didn't win...well, I didn't have to cheat my way into the finale, and I didn't have to practically be placed there by Chris. I had a lot to be satisfied about.

So yeah. I suppose that even if I lost, I'm okay with it. After all, I did pretty well, and I didn't have to become a bad guy to do it. What more can you ask for?


	53. The Moonchild

**Enter...  
STEVE**

The finish line is just up ahead. Voltar inexplicably tripped a few feet before, and it was clear sailing all the way to the finish for me. Ten million dollars, here I come!

"Steve!"

No. No. Do not look back. Do not turn around. Ignore him.

"Steve!"

Ignore him. He can't do anything. You're about to win.

"STEVE, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

Oh god damn it!

A heavy foot lands on my back. I look over my shoulder as best I can and see Dr. Weird looming over me with his foot on my back.

"Steve! Do you know what it's been like?" he asks angrily. "There were aliens! And they didn't enjoy my hot dogs!"

He rips his head off and places it next to mine. The stench of blood almost overwhelms his bad breath, which somehow manages to penetrate the dome that encases his head.

"I'll tell you!" he says angrily. "It's like having you for an assistant! Now die!"

Dr. Weird's headless body revs up a chainsaw and brings it down on his foot–and shortly thereafter, my spine. I scream as it bites into my body.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

It was a peaceful day in Metrotown. Peaceful, that is, aside from the giant tentacle monsters rampaging across the landscape, causing chaos and mass panic.

A guy with a coffee mug on his head threw open his front door. "My favorite coffee cup is missing!"

"I have two left slippers!" an old man said, fishing them out of his garbage.

"Someone took the numbers off my house!" another old man said, frantically searching the part of the wall where they used to be. "How will I know where I live?"

"How could someone be so evil?" coffee cup head said, running out into the streets.

I laughed evilly, drawing their attention as I rose up to my full, newly gigantic height. Now, I would be able to do evil on a grander scale than ever before, which must have terrified everyone as my scale was already pretty grand. But now, as a giant monster, I was certain to wreak havoc to such an extent that generations from now, the world would whisper of me as the evilest being to ever exist! Even more evil than Skullossus!

"I, AM VOLTAR!" I proclaimed. "MU-HU-HU-HA-HA–"

"Don't care," a lone voice said from inside a nearby house. I knew who it was.

"Steve!" I said in my angriest voice. It was too late, though. The spell was broken, and the panicked crowd was no longer, well, panicked. The fools! I would crush them for this insolence!

"Actually uh, I don't really care either," coffee cup head said.

The rest of the crowd started to agree with him.

"I don't care," Steve said again. I shrank down to my normal height and fell towards the ground. "Don't care. I. Don't. Care!"

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

I feel a strong hand grab my arm and pull me out of bed. It only lets go of me in order to pull open the cabin door, and then it grabs me again and pulls me outside. As I blearily blink my eyes, trying to get fully conscious, I become aware of my opponent's whining.

"What is the meaning of this?" Voltar asks angrily.

"I wanted to start the day with a spiritual experience," an airy voice says. "A sunrise is always a good way to wake up and commune with Mother Nature."

My eyes finally adjust to the dark enough so I can see who it is. My suspicions are confirmed as soon as I see her. Platinum blonde hair, pale skin, surprisingly pointy ears, clad in a sweater, a skirt, and tights. It's Dawn, or as I came to think of her while watching the show, the aura-reading hippie chick.

"Oh come on, do we really need to do this?" Voltar complains. "It's a time for sleeping! Evil needs its rest to be at its most evil! Otherwise, it's just, just–not as good at evilling!"

"Yeah, I don't care," I say.

Voltar screams and continues to rant. Honestly, I don't know why I said that. For some reason, it just seems to really rile him up when I mention that I don't care about whatever he's upset about at any given moment. I think it's the right reaction. He's always angry about something stupid. But it's still pretty funny that he pitches a fit whenever I mention that I don't really care about him. Plus, hopefully it will throw him off of his game today. So yeah, I feel justified in telling him that I don't care about his need to get a good night's sleep to be at peak evil.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

By the time the sun finally woke up, I was amazingly bored. I came back to destroy Steve, not to watch sunrises with some, some, some blonde-haired pointy-eared weirdo! I'm supposed to be doing evil, not wasting my time with whatever this is!

She let out a deep breath. "Now that the sun is up and everybody is calmer–"

"Calm?" I said angrily. "I'm not calm! I'm ready to do evil! And evil, is not, calm!"

Steve looked at me. "I don't care."

Ooh, that, that, that sick twisted Steve! Always telling me he doesn't care, no matter what I do to get him to care! He will recognize my evil, and he will submit before me before the day is through! I will make him care!

"As I was saying," she said, "I've read your auras and I know what we must do. But first, we must do some yoga in order to limber up."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

It turns out that neither of us is particularly limber. That's not really a surprise, since I'm me and Voltar is...whatever he is. I'm not sure if he's even human, what with those eyes. Maybe it's just his mask, but I've seen enough weird shit in my life that I'm not writing off the possibility that he's an alien or a monster. Although I can't say I really care, unless he whips out some unforeseen monster power that costs me ten million bucks.

"Okay, that's enough of Cobra pose," Dawn says. "Let's finish up with a few minutes of meditation in Lotus."

She gets into Lotus position, and I copy her, crossing my legs and making the same shape with my hands before shutting my eyes. Now is a time for meditation, but I don't really know what it is. I assume it has something to do with not thinking. With becoming nothingness. And that sounds just fine to me. All I have to do is avoid overthinking this.

But somehow, I can't shut my mind off. I keep running through possibilities, a lot of them pretty far-fetched but most of them a lot more likely. What if I trip and sprain an ankle, what if the challenge isn't something I know anything about, what if Dr. Weird appears out of nowhere to stomp on my back. I know the last one was just a nightmare, but then again, Dr. Weird shows up at weird places. Like the grocery store. That shopping trip _sucked_. And not just because I had to get a summer squash removed from the inside of my foot.

Enough of that, Steve. Focus on...whatever. Just stop thinking. Turn your brain off. You can do that, right?

Okay, apparently not.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

Oh, that Steve! He thinks he's so, so–well whatever he thinks he is, he's wrong! All will bow before the mighty Voltar! Especially Steve! He may just be sitting there with his eyes shut, not thinking about anything at all, but soon, soon, his mind will be filled with thoughts of the mighty Voltar! That, and how the mighty Voltar defeated him easily in combat! Whatever it is. Hopefully it's not combat of boredom. I thought I was getting a million dollars on something called Total Drama, not Boring Boredom.

What's the point of all this stuff, anyway? The mighty Voltar needs to show his evil skills of evil! And defeat _Steve_. Steve MUST be defeated. He will bow at Voltar's feet, yes, he will scream, he will weep! And he will care!

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

"I believe you two have meditated enough," Dawn says. "Now I am going to read your auras and give you a bit of advice before I take you two into the woods to start the real challenge."

"You mean this wasn't even the challenge?" Voltar asks angrily. "You wasted the mighty Voltar's time?"

"Trust me," Dawn says calmly. "This was not a waste of time."

Dawn bends down to whisper in Voltar's ear.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

"By reading your aura, I can tell that you have been betrayed by the systems you were supposed to trust," she whispered. "I know that at one point, you wanted to be a hero, but upon seeing their corruption, you turned down the path of villainy, for villains at least never misled you about their intentions. Despite this, you still long to do good, even if you keep that urge buried deep inside. But know this, Voltar: heroes are not chosen in rigged contests. Heroes make themselves, no matter what anybody else says."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

Dawn stands up, walks over to me, and bends down to whisper in my ear.

"By reading your aura, I can tell that you have been lied to and betrayed by many people," she tells me. She's absolutely correct. "I can also tell that you think this makes you better than them. That because others lie and cheat, you have a right to do the same thing. And this blinds you from seeing the truth, Steve. Because the truth is that of all the people you have ever encountered, the only one who ever truly betrayed you...was you yourself."

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

I didn't have any idea what she was talking about. Nope. None at all. I certainly never wanted to be a hero. The thought is hilarious. Crazy. Insane. Who would ever want to help people? You can always hurt them. And hurting people is fun. Right? Right. Besides, being evil. That's where it's at. I never...yeah. No way would I be a hero. Heh.

Anyway, the girl led us into the woods and to a starting line. I was already thinking of ways to cheat when she started to explain the rules.

"This final challenge is a simple trek through the woods, but with a twist," she explained. "You are supposed to go through the woods, but as you go, you should find ways to improve the lives of the animals on this island. This way, you can make the world a better place, even though this show does its best to make the world worse. You may start at any time you wish, but be warned–"

I took off. "Good luck catching up, Steve!" I taunted him.

Steve took off after me. I quickened my pace, but stepped on something. I fell over and landed on my butt, and Steve ran by me.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

I run past Voltar, not pausing to see if he's okay. I'm going to have to win this race while helping animals. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

Of course, I don't really know what I should do to help the animals out. Animal welfare has never been a top priority anywhere I've worked or studied. Still, it's not like figuring out how to escape carnivorous corn. But first I have to find some animals.

A moose steps out in front of me.

Well, I guess there's no time like the present to start winning this thing.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

I pushed myself to my feet. Now Steve had the lead, and he was going to win this stupid thing! Unless, of course, I–what did I trip on, anyway?

I went over to look at what had tripped me up. It was a discarded soda can. I was about to throw it away when I realized that it was refundable for five cents! An entire nickel, and it was going to be all mine! All I had to do was take this can to be recycled, and I would have an entire nickel to my name. Mu-hu-hwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Wait. Maybe there are even more cans that I can get money for! Yes! The mighty Voltar will turn these cans in for massive amounts of money! Victory!

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

If there's a way to be nice to a moose, I apparently don't know what it is. Which honestly would have been nice to know before I inadvertently ticked it off and made it chase after me.

I dodge through a grove of trees too thick for the moose to follow. The moose lets out an angry noise but quits pursuing me. As soon as I get through the trees, I collapse onto the ground to catch my breath.

A squirrel scurries up to me, a bottle cap firmly wedged onto its head. Well, I suppose there's no way a squirrel can hurt me, right? Besides, if I get the bottle cap off, that'll definitely score me some brownie points with Dawn.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

There were cans everywhere. Well, not everywhere, but all over the place. Whoever was drinking soda around here, they were total slobs! And they were about to make me rich! Just imagine it, me, Voltar, the richest man in the world, and all of it because of soda cans! When I turned these in, oh, the recycling center, they would beg, they would plead, they would grovel at my feet _not_ to bankrupt them! And I would ignore them and become rich! Oh, all these cans, they were the ticket to my fortune! Mu-hu! Mu-hu-ha! Mu-hu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **STEVE**

Squirrels don't like it when you try to pry bottle caps off their heads. Beavers don't like it when you try to help them build a dam. And raccoons don't like–well, they don't like me, that's for certain. So I'm giving up on trying to help animals. No way is that working out for me. I'm just going to try and get across the finish line first. That's probably my best bet to get out of this without getting killed by angry animals.

I take off running. I manage to make it a few feet before a beaver steps into my path. I leap over it, dodge around a tree, and slam into the side of a resting bear. The bear stands up and roars, and I take off again, hoping that I won't get eaten. As I run, somehow all the animals seem to come out of the woods and into my path, including a stag that rams into me at full tilt, ripping my lab coat apart with its antlers and puncturing my flesh. I get up and continue running, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my side.

It takes a while, but eventually I reach the finish line with a raccoon biting into my right butt cheek and two squirrels dangling from my left arm. Honestly, I'm glad it wasn't worse.

Dawn is already there. I collapse to the ground as she convinces the animals to get away from me.

"How did you get here already?" I pant.

"I took a shortcut," she says casually.

"Of course," I mutter.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

Yes! More and more cans! Haven't seen many animals around, but that's good, because that means they'll stay away from my cans! Voltar, you are a genius! Mu-hu-hu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

* * *

 **Enter..  
** **STEVE**

"So did I win?" I ask.

Dawn smiles at me. "No."

I slump. Of course. I didn't win.

"Why not?" I ask.

"Well, you and Voltar took off before I could explain all the rules," she says. "The winner isn't the one who crosses the finish line first. The winner is the one who does the most to help the animals."

I groan. Of course. I should have known that Dawn wouldn't have made us run a race. The good news is that Voltar's probably doing the same thing I did, and he might even hurt some animals on the way. Or be hurt by some animals.

"So what happened to your aura?" she asks.

"What?" I ask.

"Your aura," she says. "In the first season, it was brighter than it is now. Not much brighter, but there was some hope to it. But when you came back this season, your aura was dim and it got dimmer. Now it's barely visible. I've–I haven't seen that happen often and I'm worried about you."

"Worried about me?" I ask. "Why?"

"Well..." she says slowly. "Let's just say that good things don't happen to people whose auras dim to almost nothing."

"If you let me win, that'll be a good thing happening to me," I say. "How about it?"

"That's not going to happen," she tells me. "It's not the money making your aura fade."

"What is it?" I ask.

"I don't know," she admits. "It might be your cheating ways."

"What cheating ways?" I ask. "I don't cheat."

"Don't lie to me," she says. "It's written all over your aura."

"I thought you said you couldn't see my aura anymore," I point out.

"Fine," Dawn says. "So why do you cheat?"

"I don't cheat," I tell her steadfastly.

"All of us former contestants got to see the rough cuts," Dawn tells me. "Why do you think Ella's musical was basically a giant allegory for how you've played the game?"

Ella's musical was an allegory?

"So tell me," she continues. "Why do you cheat?"

I sigh. The jig is up. I might as well tell her.

"It all started when I lost the first time around," I say. "I...I wasn't that surprised I lost, honestly. I just couldn't believe how I lost. I mean, I lost because people who knew that Elise didn't like them thought that it was a good idea to keep her around and get rid of me. I lost because of the weirdness of the voting booth, basically. So when I got back home, I decided to rewatch the seasons. I'd watched them before, in preparation for getting on the island, and I knew there was a reasonable chance there'd be another season and I might make it back on. And I figured out a lot of stuff when I watched them, but one of the things I noticed was that two people rigged the votes on two separate occasions and got away with it. I mean, they weren't punished at _all_ for cheating. So the only thing I wondered was why neither of them just did that for the rest of the game, you know? If it worked once, why wouldn't it work again and again? So I decided to test the proposition. To run a little experiment, you know, and see how long I could get away with rigging the votes. If nobody ever stopped me, all I'd have to do is avoid being eliminated in an elimination round, and if they did, well, at least I'd probably get rid of somebody who betrayed me. And that–that was basically what I wanted to do from the start. To get rid of everybody who had betrayed me. So Elise, who manipulated me early on. Marlowe, who had decided to vote me off. And of course Nazz, the mastermind of the whole thing. I wanted to get rid of at least one of them, and, well, I managed to get rid of all three. I admit, I don't know _why_ I thought that getting rid of all of them was the most important thing to do. Maybe it's because I wanted to actually be in control for once. I wanted the world to run on my whims instead of somebody else's. I didn't–I didn't want to be a puppet anymore. Or maybe it was all for the money. I don't know."

We sit there in silence for several minutes after I finish talking.

"You know, I think I almost understand," Dawn says. "You just wanted to win for once, is that correct?"

I nod.

"I've given it a lot of thought," she says. "I mean, a lot of thought. Once I knew I was going to be hosting the finale, I tried to figure out something that both contestants could do that would also be helpful for the world. But when it came down to you and Voltar, well, I had to fall back on a plan. And I must admit, when I thought it would be you in the finale, I considered making you lose. Just throwing the game to whomever your opponent was as an executive decision." She pauses. "But that wouldn't be fair, right? I mean, if I did that, I'd be cheating, the same way you did. After all, two people made it to the finale, so if I'm going to be fair, I have to let them both have a chance at winning."

"What's your point?" I ask.

"My point is you're not the only one who thinks about cheating," Dawn says. "You're just the one who gave in and decided to do so."

I snort. "Yeah, I know. You're so much better than me."

"Not necessarily," Dawn says. "Every day, we all get the choice to choose what to be. Good, bad, or neutral. We can choose to be neutral. We can walk through life not paying much attention to our surroundings. To the good and evil, the right and wrong, to the daily moral questions that surround us. Our sole purpose can be to survive, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Most people simply want to get through each day."

She sighs. "We can choose to follow our darker sides. Some do so reluctantly, out of a sense that this is the only way. Some do so for the cheap thrills it brings, ignoring the guilt that tags along and the gradual loss of empathy. And some do so with gleeful abandon, enjoying the hedonistic haze that surrounds being a bad person."

"But then again," Dawn says, looking me in the eyes, "there is always the possibility of choosing to do good. And that possibility is always available, no matter what you may have done in the past. Always, there is the chance of redemption."

Dawn stares at me intensely for several seconds. We are suddenly interrupted by a loud clatter from behind us.

"My cans!" Voltar cries. "No! How will I ever gather them up for recycling now!"

I turn around and see that Voltar has tripped over the finish line, and the soda cans he was apparently carrying in his arms have tumbled all over the place. Dawn gets up and runs over to him.

* * *

 **Enter...  
** **VOLTAR**

I couldn't believe it! I was so close to getting rich off of my cans! But they got scattered all over, and it'd take _forever_ to pick them all up! My scheme is ruined! Ruined!

The blonde girl ran up to me. "Voltar! Did you pick all of these cans up so they could be recycled?"

"Uh, _yeah_ ," I told her. "Duh!" I mean, what other use could these cans possibly be? Unless they were used as a radiation gun to fill the world with expired strawberry soda!

"Well, that's–" she frowned. "It's not much, really, but it's more than Steve did."

"Hey!" Steve complained. "I tried!"

"So I guess since you actually did something to help the animals, you're the winner, Voltar," she told me.

Winner? Of what?

Oh yeah. I'm on this reality show. Totally something I'm great at.

Wait. I just won this reality show.

AND I BEAT STEVE!

"I won?" I asked to make sure. "I won Total Drama?"

"You won Total Drama," she repeated.

I cheered and leapt into the air. "VICTORY!"


	54. The Chef

Just like last season, every contestant who had competed on the island was brought back for a final party. Unlike last time, though, nobody particularly felt like partying.

Ruby shook her head as she set foot on the dock. "Can you believe this whole thing only took four weeks?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Aunt Grandma replied. "I was here for most of it, remember?"

"And Steve cheated us out of ten million," Snidely groused. "If it weren't for him..."

"Actually, pretty much all of us voted you off," Andy pointed out. "Steve switching the votes didn't really change anything."

Snidely growled at him. "I can't believe I ever thought you were worthy of being in an alliance with me."

"I can't believe you ever talked me into being an alliance with you," Elise said, shoving him out of the way.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," Wendy said.

Elise shrugged. "Hey, I've had about a month to get over it. Besides, Steve lost, so who cares?"

"None of us won," Andy pointed out.

"Yeah, the guy who did win was pretty much placed directly into the finale," Nazz pointed out. "If anyone deserved to win, it was Wendy."

Wendy looked at her suspiciously. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing!" Nazz insisted. "You should have been going up against Steve in the finale."

"Actually, Wendy was brought back halfway through the season," Boris pointed out. "So shouldn't it be Andy who deserved to win?"

"No, Aunt Grandma," Numbuh Two said. "Andy got brought in after the show started too, remember?"

"But Aunt Grandma only really made it that far because Steve rigged the votes," Marlowe pointed out. "I don't think anybody really liked her."

"That is _not_ true!" Aunt Grandma said angrily. "I'm likable!"

"Maybe, maybe not," Ingrid said. "Steve rigging the votes probably messed with who got to the merge on your team. I mean, Marlowe and Dale don't really seem like obvious choices, and since he was preserving Ruby for some reason that means that she made the merge in place of somebody else."

"Hey!" a loud voice barked. The losing contestants looked over to the source of the voice and saw Chef angrily glaring at them. "Quit arguing these woulda coulda shouldas and get your butts over here! We have a prize to give away!"

"Geez, Chef, what's eating you?" Numbuh Two asked. "You seem angrier than usual."

Chef's scowl deepened as he looked at Numbuh Two, but after a second he shrugged and let out a deep breath. "You're right, I'm not being fair. But cut me some slack. I've been working every day for the last fifty-three days."

"Has it only been that long?" Ingrid asked rhetorically.

"Yes," Chef said angrily. "And right now, I can't wait to get my butt off the island and finally get some rest and relaxation!"

"Wow," Wendy said. "You know, I actually feel sorry for you. Nobody should be forced to work that many days in a row."

"Yeah, yeah," Chef said. "I just can't wait to be done with this, so the sooner you people get up there, the sooner we can give away the money, and the sooner I can get off this island for a well-deserved rest. So move it!"

Everybody walked towards the campfire pit. A fire was already burning, but Voltar and Steve were just standing around awkwardly.

"When do I get my prize?" Voltar whined upon seeing Chef. "I want it now!"

"You'll get it later, now buzz off!" Chef said crankily.

"Uh, Chef?" Marlowe asked. "What exactly are we supposed to be doing?"

"The same thing you did last time, mingle with each other so we can get some good shots or whatever!" Chef said. "I don't care, just go do something! Where the heck is Chris?"

Chef stomped off to look for the host. The rest of the ex-contestants looked at each other, shrugged, and split up into groups. Ingrid, Numbuh Two, and Boris all wandered off together to one part of the campfire pit, while the girls who had been Steve's victims went off in another direction. Nazz and Andy also walked away, with them taking seats on different stumps. As soon as he sat down, Andy pulled his flask out of his pocket and drained the entire thing.

Dale and Ruby sat down on the ground and watched, bemused, as the other campers talked among themselves.

"You know, I'm kind of glad I got kicked out early," Dale said. "It seems like no matter who won, they were destined to be disliked."

"Yeah," Ruby admitted. "But at least I finally got them to believe that I wanted to go home."

Dale nodded. "Sorry for jumping the gun and thinking you were lying about that."

"In retrospect, I don't blame you," Ruby said. "By the way, did you vote for me that time?"

Dale grimaced. "Okay, in my defense, I had voted for you every time prior. And I thought that Aunt Grandma was rigging the votes and thought Steve would help me with that. Boy was I wrong there."

"Well at least you guessed that somebody was messing with the votes," Ruby said. "I don't think that idea ever crossed my mind."

"That's because you trust people," Dale said.

"Well, not so much until Aunt Grandma arrived and told us what she'd figured out about Steve," Ruby said. "I really thought everybody hated each other more than they liked me. Turns out I was wrong, and it was just that Steve wanted to keep me on the island."

"Speaking of which, you wanna go talk to him?" Dale asked. "Find out why he kept you on?"

Ruby looked over at Steve and shook her head after a few seconds. "Nah. I don't need to spend time with jerks."

"You're spending time with me, though," Dale said, smirking.

Ruby smiled at him. "You're also a genuinely nice guy."

Dale smiled back at her. Nazz looked at them uncomfortably.

"Sad, isn't it," Snidely said. Nazz turned and saw him standing behind her. "They've all moved on from you. It's all about the new villain on the block." He sat down on a stump and stretched himself out languidly. "And to think, you could have actually had a working alliance again. Is it in your DNA to make bad decisions?"

"What do you want?" Nazz asked, sounding annoyed.

"Nothing at all," Snidely said sweetly. "I'm just enjoying your misery at no longer being the villain. I mean, what did it get you? No money, the enmity of everyone on the island...it's delicious and almost poetic in a way."

"So what, you just want to mock me?" Nazz asked. "You want to make fun of me because I didn't cheat?"

"Well, let's be honest," Snidely said. "You could have gotten _so_ much farther if you'd sided with me."

Nazz shook her head. "I don't think so. I made it to the merge without you. And if Steve really was rigging the votes, I would have gone home then anyway. Unless you're going to tell me that you had some strategy for stopping Steve."

"Of course I did!" Snidely said. "But I'm not going to tell you what it was."

"Then let me ask you something," Nazz said. "If you had a strategy to stop Steve from cheating, _why didn't you use it_?"

Snidely looked surprised. "Well, I–"

"You're a lousy liar," Nazz said. "You know that? You're absolutely horrible at lying. Everybody knew from day one that you were up to no good, and as soon as they figured out what you were up to, they kicked you off the island. That was your first try, and you managed to make it to what, eighth off? You were the fifth person on our team to go, so at least you made it that far. Then during your next attempt, you got kicked off fourth, and you were the second one off our team. But Chris brought you back again, and you were kicked off immediately. And you want to know what's funny? There wasn't much debate about that any of those times. If you really think I'd have gotten farther with you on my side, well, maybe you're right. But only if you went down in front of me. You're mocking me for not being the big villain anymore. Well alright, but Snidely, here's the thing: _you never were_."

"I–" Snidely tried to interrupt.

"You what?" Nazz asked. "You were the villain? No, not really. Every time, you try to set up an alliance, and you're never able to stay on long enough that your alliance can actually come into play. That, or they turn on you, because let's face it Snidely. I may be hated, but I was once liked. You, on the other hand...nobody actually ever liked you. And now that they know your game, I don't think anybody ever will."

"That's–that's not true!" Snidely said, immensely upset. "I'm not–I mean–I–I'm–"

"Look at them over there," Nazz said, pointing to the four women who had gathered together to chat about Steve's behavior. "All of them got targeted by Steve. Heck, look at Dale over there, talking to Ruby. Every one of them fell to Steve in some way. And then there's you and me, and we're both avoiding everybody else. Do you know why that is, Snidely?"

"Well, it's–uh–because–uh..." Snidely trailed off.

"It's because it didn't matter if Steve rigged the votes," Nazz said. "We were going to go down anyway."

"That's not–it isn't–" Snidely tried to say.

"Face it, Snidely," Nazz said. "That unanimous vote against you wasn't a mistake. You were always going home that day. Just as I was always going to lose this season."

Nazz turned her attention away from him as he sputtered incoherently. Ingrid, Numbuh Two, and Boris watched from afar.

"Man," Numbuh Two said. "Am I glad she never decided to rip on us like that."

"Oh please, like it would matter if she did," Boris said. "Although I have to ask, when do I get noticed? I am certainly Badenov to be on that list!"

"No, not really," Ingrid said. Boris looked at her, shocked. "What? You hang out with Numbuh Two and Dale, you make a bunch of friends, you were ticked at us when we stabbed you in the back. You're pretty much one of the good guys."

"Well–I mean–that's an accident!" Boris claimed. "I'm not used to having to trust only some people but not others! In my world you need to mistrust everybody just in case! And that's when you slip in the knife. Deep and sharp, into the back."

"...right," Numbuh Two said. "Besides the fact that you're going to stab us in the back once it becomes a good idea–"

"And it will!" Boris insisted. "As soon as the other threats are eliminated, I will!"

"Yeah, got it," Numbuh Two said. "But until then, you're a pretty good ally."

Boris looked at him dubiously. "I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"Take it as one," Ingrid advised.

Dale walked up to them with Ruby in tow. "Hey guys."

"Hey," Numbuh Two greeted him. "What's up?"

"Not much," Dale said. "Just figured we'd come over to chat with you."

"Fair enough," Numbuh Two said.

"So how do you think Chris'll rope us into next season?" Ingrid asked.

Ruby's eyes widened. " _Next_ season?"

"HEY!"

Everybody's attention was drawn to the podium, where Chef had just yelled out loudly. For some reason, he was standing behind the podium, looking very grumpy.

"Get your butts on the stumps!" Chef barked. The fourteen former contestants rushed to comply. Once they were all seated, Chef began speaking again. "So, it looks like Chris has decided to leave without even presenting the money. And meanwhile _I_ have to stay here and make sure you all get home safely. So you know what? Here it is, the big money presentation. Voltar!" He held up the briefcase. "Come and get it."

Voltar strode up to the podium proudly. "Do I get to make a victory speech?"

"Sure, whatever," Chef said. "But make it quick!"

Voltar grinned and took his place behind the podium with the assistance of a stepping stool. He stared at the other thirteen contestants.

"As you may already know, I, Voltar, am victorious!" he declared. "Of course, there was never any doubt that the great Voltar would win in the end. After all, he is amazing and evil. Amazingly evil! And all of you must be just sick with envy, shocked that you can't be as wonderful as me. But there is one very, very special person I want to see grovel before me."

He paused and grinned wickedly. "Steve! Come, admit that I have crushed your dreams and robbed you of your hopes! Admit that you have been defeated by the mighty Voltar! Admit that you, Steve, actually care!"

Steve stood up angrily. "Fine. I care, Voltar. I care that you beat me. I care that it was all for nothing. I care. Why does this matter so much?"

Voltar laughed evilly. "Yes! Victory!" He laughed some more and then calmed down and hopped off the stepping stool. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an evil lair to return to."

"Wait!" Chef said. Voltar stopped in his tracks. "Don't you want the briefcase?"

"What do I need with some piece of ugly luggage?" Voltar asked. "Give it to Steve. He can have it as a consolation prize."

* * *

"NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Doktor Frogg screamed at the television.

"I know!" Red Menace agreed. "That's actually a very stylish briefcase!"

"Not that, you dimwit!" Doktor Frogg said angrily. "Voltar just gave away ten! Million! Dollars! Just think of all the doomsday devices we could have bought with that money!"

Doktor Frogg began crying. Red Menace rested a comforting hand on his back.

"It's okay, Doktor Frogg," Red said. "The sun will shine tomorrow."

Frogg glared at him. "We're villains, Red. We don't want the sun to shine."

"Really?" Red Menace asked. "Because I like the sunshine! It helps the flowers grow big and strong, and it makes ice cream taste so much more delicious!"

Doktor Frogg groaned.

* * *

"Really?" Steve asked, shocked. "You'll give me the briefcase?"

"Enh, why not," Voltar said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go cash in some cans. Might as well make a bit of money off of this show, don't you think?"

Steve grinned wickedly. "Good idea, Voltar. Excellent idea."

"Fine!" Chef said angrily. "Here you go, loser!"

Chef threw the briefcase at Steve roughly. It slammed into Steve's sternum and knocked him to the ground. Everyone glared at him as Steve got up holding the briefcase and popped the latches. A small pile of orange paper fell out.

Steve picked up one of the pieces of paper and examined it. The small scrap of paper declared itself worth a hundred thousand dollars.

"What–what is this?" Steve asked, dumbfounded.

"It's a hundred thousand dollar bill from the Game of LIFE," Chris said. Everyone looked up and saw him floating overhead using a jetpack.

"Chris?" Chef asked, shocked. "Where did you come from? I thought you went home!"

"As if I was going to miss the moment of misery when the winner opened the case and saw that the mythical ten million dollars was nearly worthless," Chris said. "Yeah, no, I was just waiting for this moment to arrive."

"But–but–but–" Steve sputtered, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

"See, the funny thing is, we never actually specified that the ten million dollars were in a real-world currency," Chris continued smugly. "And when you get right down to it, that stuff's actually more worthless than Monopoly money." He grinned. "It could be worse, though. We could have used Zimbabwean dollars."

Steve stared at his worthless pile of play money for a few seconds before falling to his knees and weeping bitterly.

* * *

Doktor Frogg cackled at the television set. "Voltar, you mad idiot genius you! Somehow, someway, you managed to crush a man's spirit once, and then crush it even further again! It's just so hilarious!"

Doomageddon started cackling as well, and they both laughed at Steve's misery.

* * *

"And with that, we bring a close to another season of Total Drama," Chris said, stepping over Steve's prone body to do the outro. "A season filled with laughs, drama, and subpar hosting that only goes to show how I'm the host with the most and don't you forget it, and ending with the ultimate winner being...Voltar, I guess. Yeah, I know. Weird. But, anyway–"

"Hold on," Wendy interrupted. "Is this the part where you throw another smoke bomb and make us do another season, probably this time for 100 million dollars in virtual fishing game money?"

"No," Chris said. "No no no. No. Yeah, no. We figured we'd give you all about three months off, and _then_ interview you. See who wants to come back and who wants to stay home. And next season there will be an _actual_ cash prize. Definitely. But!" He turned back to the camera. "Who will win? Who will lose? Who will make a fool of themselves on international television? Find out when we return with a brand new season, Total! Drama! Cartoon Multiverse! Dimension Hopping!"


End file.
